


The Fugitives

by HeavyHeartstrings



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Angst, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, Implied Child Abuse, Kingdom Verse, M/M, Mentions of other characters - Freeform, Multiple Pov, Romance, Violence, no beta we die like men, no main pair, sakuatsu for one second if you squint, slow burn for some pairs, some japanese honourifics kept bc im lawless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:15:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 165,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24233431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeavyHeartstrings/pseuds/HeavyHeartstrings
Summary: Iwaizumi's band of mercenaries is hired to capture three fugitives by order of the Crown Prince of Miyagi.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Azumane Asahi/Nishinoya Yuu, Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi
Comments: 318
Kudos: 810
Collections: IwaOi Fics, KageHina Fics





	1. King of Combat

**Author's Note:**

> ooooh did I just commit to a big multi-chapter story?
> 
> Well, here we go!

It’s busy tonight. Not that it’s much of a surprise to Hinata, but the observation adds to the eagerness climbing inside of him. He’s nearly jittery, ready for things to get rolling. He reaches a hand around the mug sitting atop the old, worn table and takes a swig of the ale before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. From his position tucked in the corner of the tavern, it’s a clear view of everyone and everything going on. The clientele here consists mainly of middle-aged men, much bigger and burlier than him, laughing and jesting about while they consume their gold’s worth in drinks. Hinata has always found it interesting how often some of these men come here to drink themselves into a stupor, wondering what causes them to rely so heavily on the distraction of alcohol.

“Did ya hear? They say some guys called the King of fightin’ is going to be in tonight’s tournament,” he hears from a table not far. Hinata perks up in his seat, eyes trained into his drink and focusing intently on their words amongst the overlapping chatter.

“King of Combat you dolt!” His friend corrects with a guffaw.

 _King_? Hinata thinks to himself curiously. That’s a heavy title for someone to carry.

The original man grunts. “Ah, who gives a shit what his title is. All I care about is him overthrowing the current title holder. That fuckin’ prick has won five tournaments in a row.”

Hinata’s mouth turns half-downward. He missed the last one, but wasn’t surprised to hear the news the warrior Ushijima remained undefeated. The man is a beast, to put it plainly. Standing just over six feet and built sturdy as stone is enough of an advantage to have in the ring. Add in his skill with a sword and an axe, multiply it by the sheer, raw power the man possesses and you have practically a monster. He’s been dominating any challenger who dares take him on, well revered by the underground fighting pits as the reigning champion.

He admires the way Ushijima fights. What he lacks in speed he makes up in stamina and strength. Even those who come up against the man wearing full suits of armour are thrown around like ragdolls. Taking a single hit from Ushijima is detrimental and always the first step ultimately leading to their defeat. Each time Hinata watches him fight, he tries to picture what is going through the man’s head before he strikes. If he himself were to ever fight the man, he’d never stand a chance. Still, the idea is somewhat thrilling to Hinata.

“I’ve heard the King is a force to be reckoned with. He’s supposedly a genius,” one of the men chimes in.

“Pwah! Possessing genius doesn’t mean yer a good fighter,” another retorts.

Hinata gulps down another sip and lets his eyes drift to the ceiling of the tavern. No, perhaps not, but nobody is called a genius for nothing. If this so-called _King_ lives up to such rumours, then he’s making use of his intelligence somehow in battle. Even Hinata knows fighting is more than swinging around blunt weapons and yelling battle cries.

“I heard he won in a fight against six men. Came out completely unscathed.”

Hinata looks their way at that one, then his eyes shift hurriedly back to his drink. One of their cups slams down harshly on the table. “Don’t be fuckin’ ridiculous. Six versus one? Obviously made up.”

Hinata’s fingers are tapping the top of the table anxiously. He wants to ask- to gather any kind of extra information about the King, but a sudden intrusion from the entrance and a yell that the first match is beginning sends the tavern into an uproar as men filter out into the streets.

Keeping the hood of his cloak pulled over, Hinata rises from his table and blends in with the crowd. It’s easy to stay relatively hidden given his height and ability to go unnoticed amongst the already drunk and rowdy men. Weaving through the dark streets, eventually they gather in front of the tournament arena and Hinata enters easily.

The arena is packed and unfortunately for himself, Hinata lands a terrible spot near one of the entrances up in the stands. It’s not a great view, but he’s going to have to deal with it.

“Sho!” A voice cuts out through the hundreds of people talking around him. Hinata jerks around, smiling brightly when he recognizes Kouji and Izumi approaching. He greets the two excitedly, smiling.

“We missed you last week, where were you?” Izumi asks, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

Hinata shrugs, forcing an easy expression. “Ah, wasn’t feeling well. Think I caught some bug going around.”

“Eugh,” Kouji interjects. “Better keep away from me.”

Hinata laughs. “I’m fine now! No way some little illness is gonna get rid of me so easily.”

Kouji’s mouth is parted and probably ready to throw out a playful jab, but their attention is drawn to the inner ring as the announcer begins his usual introductory speech.

“Ooooh, let’s get this going!” Izumi cries, pumping his fists in the air. “I’m ready to see Ushijima win again!”

Hinata’s mind flashes back to the men talking about the ‘King of Combat’, wondering if he’ll indeed show up tonight. The contenders for the tournament are all brought out, walking single file and stopping when they’re lined in the center. Ushijima takes the lead and is obviously garnering the most attention; the crowd around Hinata roaring for their champion. There’s a few other recognizable fighters Hinata spots, but a lot of them are unfamiliar. He tries to scrutinize them enough to pick out a recognizable _king_ , but there’s nothing about them that particularly screams “genius”.

The first battle is between two rookie fighters and ends fairly quickly. It’s exciting enough to get the crowd rolling, already fired up by the time the swordfighter has the brigand disarmed and blade pressed to his throat. The second one is a little less entertaining, Hinata being able to call out who the winner will be within thirty seconds of the match beginning. He slumps in his seat with a pout; it’s never fun when you already know the outcome of the match.

It’s the third match which seems to take the arena by surprise. A burly armoured knight steps up to fight against a black-haired man with practically no defenses, dressed in black leather trousers and a jacket by the looks of it. He doesn't have a big weapon either.

Kouji verbalizes Hinata’s immediate thoughts, his voice uneasy. “Isn’t he dressed a little lightly for this?”

“Maybe he’s really quick and doesn’t want to be weighed down by armour,” Izumi suggests.

Hinata nibbles on his bottom lip, unsure of what the reason could be. Either way, it seems pretty dumb to walk into a fight like this with at least something more protective. Looking at the large steel axe supported in the knight’s hand is enough of an indicator to suggest such. One clean cut from that thing and you’d be a goner.

“He must have a death wish,” Kouji murmurs.

The match begins and Hinata is engrossed immediately. The black-haired man lowers into a fighting stance, already circling the armoured knight on light feet. Hinata notices how distinctively he moves, how easily his weight shifts and balance is kept while waiting for the opponent to strike first.

And it doesn’t take long, the knight advancing towards the black-haired fighter with a swing of his axe. The black-haired man ducks with ease and kicks his leg up to meet the man’s chest. Though he’s guarded by armour, the impact is hard enough to send him stumbling back a few steps. There’s whooping and hollering erupting from the crowd as the knight regains his balance. This time he advances fiercer, grunting with a powerful swing. The black-haired man jumps backward to avoid the attack and withdraws a dagger from his belt.

“What’s that dingy little thing going to do?” Izumi asks frustratedly. “He couldn’t at least have brought a sword!?”

Hinata stays silent, eyes taking in each movement with fascination. The knife is like his safety net, being used as a guard in case the axe comes too close. A resounding clang meets Hinata’s ears as the black-haired man parries the axe enough to dodge back again.

“What is he doing!?” Kouji echoes. “He’s not trying to attack!”

 _No, but he’s observing_ , Hinata thinks. Probably taking in enough information before he can make a calculated decision. The knight strikes again and knocks the dagger from his hand carelessly.

“Oh man. I don’t think I can watch this, it’s just not fair,” Izumi groans, hands pressed to his face and peeking through fingers.

Hinata’s eyes light up when the first counter strike is made. The knight's attacks are noticeably slower already, probably losing energy from lugging both the armour and heavy axe. His axe is brought down in a rough slice and the black-haired man side steps and thrusts his arm out to strike the man’s wrist. In the blink of an eye, the knight is disarmed and the black-haired man has his weapon gripped tight. Hinata gasps in surprise as the black-haired man swings the axe back at the knight in one hand like he’s twirling a practice sword.

And with a clean strike, the knight goes down and surrenders. Healers rush into the arena to grab the wounded man, removing him to treat the injury.

There’s a lull of silence hanging in the air for a second before the crowd bursts out in shouts and hollering. Hinata’s hands are fisted at his sides tightly, unable to hold back the splitting grin on his face. There’s a tightening ball of excitement in his chest. This is it. It must be him- the one those men were talking about earlier.

 _The King of Combat_.

* * *

It’s long past sunset when Iwaizumi, Daichi and Akaashi return from hunting. Lugging a deer back wasn’t originally intended, but when the opportunity presented itself, Iwaizumi wasn’t about to turn down the extra meat. Especially with Akaashi’s precision guaranteeing them the hunt. They make it back, worn out from the afternoon’s travel and eager to rest. But Iwaizumi knows the meat needs to be taken care of lest it spoils and gets Daichi to help him lug the carcass into their fort.

Iwaizumi dismisses Akaashi when he offers to aid in skinning and prepping the deer, telling him he’s done his part and ordering him to get some rest. The quiet sniper resigns with a small bow, heading to his quarters for the night.

Daichi smirks as he supports the deer while Iwaizumi ties it up. “I don’t think he’ll ever drop the formalities,” he comments.

Iwaizumi sighs and shrugs, securing the deer and stepping back for a moment. “I guess old habits die hard, but it sure is uncomfortable to be on the receiving end.”

Daichi laughs as he passes a knife to Iwaizumi. “Not used to being treated so politely?” He asks sarcastically.

“Yea, ‘cause mercenaries are known for their manners,” he toys back with a roll of his eyes, beginning to make incisions on the deer’s skin.

Approaching footsteps capture their attention, both turning to the doorway and seeing Sugawara enter. His eyes widen at the deer and he makes a grossed-out face for a moment.

“Sorry Suga, you walked in at a bad time-“ Daichi begins, but is cut off by a worried question from the healer.

“Tobio isn’t with you?” He asks with furrowed eyebrows.

Iwaizumi turns to face Sugawara fully, eyes thoughtful. “No. Did he leave?”

“Uh, yea. Not too late after you guys. That’s why I thought…” he trails off.

Daichi waves a hand absentmindedly. “Don’t mind it, maybe he’s in the city for the night,” he reasons. It’s easy to tell he’s trying to keep the healer from getting nervous.

“Maybe,” Sugawara says quietly. “But why wouldn’t he tell me where he’s going?”

“It’s Kageyama,” Iwaizumi comments plainly, returning his attention to skinning the deer. “You know what he’s like.”

“I suppose,” Sugawara replies, though it’s clear he’s not happy with how this is playing out.

“Mama hens worried one of her chicks has gone missing?” Another voice chimes in from the doorway.

Daichi sighs. “Kuroo, please don’t work him up-“

“I _am_ worried!” Sugawara interrupts a second time. “You know how easily he gets lost!” He cries out.

“Alright,” Iwaizumi cuts in before it escalates further. He turns to stare at Sugawara. “I know you know he’s perfectly capable of taking care of himself. If he’s not back by morning, we’ll go search for him. Now clear out of here already so we can finish this, would ya?”

Sugawara ponders on it a moment, sharing a glance with Daichi before nodding and retreating back down the hall. Kuroo lingers a bit to chat before disappearing as well, leaving Iwaizumi and Daichi the time to finish prepping the deer. By the end of it, Iwaizumi’s hands are sore and he’s exhausted, ready for sleep.

“You’re not concerned at all that Kageyama left without telling any of us?” Daichi asks as they’re salting the last strips of meat.

Iwaizumi is silent a few moments before responding. “Concerned? No,” he answers. “Curious? Definitely. It’s been awhile since he’s gone off on his own.”

Daichi gives a hum of acknowledgement, dropping the subject quickly to his satisfaction. He knows they’re worried out of care, but the kid isn’t exactly a helpless weakling. Quite the exact opposite, in fact.

After the meat is stored and they’re cleaned up, Iwaizumi thanks Daichi for the help and begins walking towards his room. He pauses before he makes it out of the doorway, turning to Daichi who returns his gaze questioningly.

“Tell Sugawara to stop stressing when you go see him.”

Daichi’s eyes widen. “I never said I was going to-“

“But you are, aren’t you?” Iwaizumi asks impatiently, crossing his arms. Daichi smiles sheepishly, rubbing a hand behind his head. “Well yea.”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, smiling nonetheless and bids Daichi a goodnight.

* * *

Kageyama slinks through the dark streets, intent on getting back to his horse and riding back to the fort with no other distractions. He didn’t think he would be out this late and knows he’s going to crash the moment he lays down. The earnings he won from the tournament are secured to his belt in a small pouch, hidden from sight. He keeps his steps light and movements quick, not wanting to draw any attention to himself. Slipping out of the city undetected shouldn’t be a terrible challenge, so long as he remembers the route he took to get in.

He approaches the stable he rented out earlier and obtains his horse. Just after he’s mounted her and ready to take off, movement in his peripheral catches Kageyama’s attention. Someone runs in front of his horse, throwing their arms up and calling out for him to wait. It’s hard to make out details, but he sees wide amber eyes staring up at him with a bewildered expression.

The hand that instinctively moved to the hilt of his dagger loosens as he takes in the sight of the small man in front of him. Obviously not a threat. “Get out of my way,” he orders.

“Just a second!” The guy insists. He lowers his hood, maybe as a sign of goodwill and Kageyama wonders how young he is. His face is round and youthful, hair tucked under a bandana tied around his head.

“Shouldn’t you be at home sleeping? Kids shouldn’t be out this late.”

A look of disbelief crosses his face. “I’m…not a kid,” the stranger grits out, clearly offended.

Kageyama frowns. “So, what do you want?” He asks impatiently.

The annoyance in the man’s eyes disappears, to be replaced with an excited fire. “I saw you fight! You defeated Ushijima like it was nothing, even though he-“

Kageyama steers his horse around the guy, walking away without a word.

“Eh?” He hears from behind. “Wait, I wasn’t done talking to you!”

“Too bad I was,” Kageyama bites back, not turning his head as he speaks.

“No wonder they call you a king, you certainly act the part!” The guy barks out.

That gets to him, making Kageyama halt his horse’s steps. He turns to fixate the short man with a glare. He stands proudly, hands clenched at his sides as if he’s willing to take on a challenge. Kageyama almost laughs.

“Little guys like you need to keep your mouth shut. You’ll get hurt if you say the wrong thing to the wrong person,” he warns.

Kageyama practically feels the anger settling into the stranger’s stance. He stares, waiting, daring him to make some kind of a move. He’d come to regret it for sure.

But, instead his eyes clear of the frustration and his expression becomes passive. “You should get the cut on your face looked after,” he says, simply lifting his hood over his face, shielding it from Kageyama’s keen gaze and walking away.

Kageyama watches until the stranger is one with the shadows, eyes narrowed thoughtfully. He watched him in the tournament? Huh.

Eyes widening, he realizes the guy must have been following him. Kageyama didn't notice a thing.

Not wanting to linger any long, he commands his horse to gallop down the quiet street.

* * *

There’s nothing quite as relaxing to Yamaguchi as caring for the horses at nighttime. It's a good way for him to let go of the day's problem and focus on grooming and feeding. He’d grown up alongside the creatures his whole life, feeling at times like he understood them better than people. There was something so magnificent about horses that drew Yamaguchi in. How they could be wild and reckless in one moment and switch back to calm and collected with the right trust and guidance. They all had their own unique personalities and tending to them so they are in the best possible shape is something he’s dedicated to seeing through.

What _isn’t_ relaxing, is after he’s finished for the night and locking up the stables, he hears rustling of bushes and a cry from somewhere nearby. Yamaguchi nearly shrills in shock, turning his head every which way to try and locate where the noise came from. Is someone hurt? Is it an intruder? Should he stay and investigate or go call for guards, oh no-

He gasps when a figure detaches itself from bushes near the walls of the castle. “Wha-who’s there!?” He calls out more frightened than threatening.

The figure stills, turning towards him before it starts barreling at Yamaguchi. He releases an all out shriek this time, trying to run away.

“Wait- no Yamaguchi it’s me!” A familiar voice hisses, causing him the skid to a stop and jerk around.

“Y-your Highness?” Yamaguchi questions uncertainly. Sure enough, when he pulls the hood of his cloak back, the Crown Prince beams up at him.

“Yes, it’s me see? No need to worry!” He explains in a voice that’s probably supposed to be quiet, but isn’t doing very well.

“What were you doing?” Yamaguchi asks curiously, head cocking to the side when he takes in the bandana tied around his head. Yamaguchi straightens up, expression shocked. “Ah, I mean- not that it’s my business!”

Hinata presses a finger to his lips even though he’s louder than Yamaguchi. “Shh! It’s fine. I snuck out to watch a tournament in one of the fighting pits. It was awesome, you shoulda seen it Yamaguchi!”

The freckled man smiles sheepishly, trying to follow along. “Snuck out? Uh, should you really be doing that?” He asks uneasily.

Hinata waves a hand carelessly. “It’s fine. I can’t stay cooped in the castle forever, ya know?”

Yamaguchi nods, even though it hasn’t been long and he doesn’t think he’d ever find himself bored of such a large castle. Hinata smiles brightly up at him, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Right! I knew you’d get it. Anyway, I’m off to my quarters. If anyone asks, you didn’t see me! Later Yamaguchi!”

He bounces off before Yamaguchi can get a response in, leaving the brunet sighing to himself and pressing a hand to his chest. That scare couldn’t have been good for his heart.

* * *

Hinata closes his door behind himself with a quiet click and sighs in victory. Finally, back in his room and not a single thing to worry about. Sure, running into Yamaguchi wasn’t part of the plan, but Hinata is fairly certain the stable boy won’t go spilling the news to anyone. Plus, he didn’t run into any trouble at all! Hinata sighs and stretches his arms over his head, walking to his bed and falling onto his back with a couple bounces. He takes another deep breath and closes his eyes a moment, taking time to reflect on the past few hours before he gets changed.

“Fun night, Chibi-chan?” A voice perks up from the other side of the room.

Hinata all but shrieks, jumping at least four feet into the air on pure instinct alone. When he scrambles to his hands and knees on the bed and looks across the dim, candled-lit room, his advisor Oikawa sits at a small round table, one leg crossed over the other in his formal attire with a glass of red wine held in one hand.

“Oikawa?” Hinata murmurs nervously. “When did you get there?”

“I came to discuss some things with you earlier, only to find out you were missing. You can imagine how worried I was.” Oikawa explains in a light tone with a hand pressed dramatically to his chest and yet, Hinata knows from experience it’s masking something darker.

Hinata shuffles forward on his bed, pouting at Oikawa. “You didn’t tell anyone though?” He asks, though it’s more of an observation. If his advisor had done such a thing, the castle would be up in arms and raiding the city at the very least.

His advisor takes a drink. “No, I had a feeling it was all your doing.”

Hinata frowns, embarrassment flooding him. He truly thought he covered every corner this time, making sure his intention and actions were kept hidden. He should have known better to think he could get one past Oikawa.

“Hm,” Oikawa sounds after the silence that follows, taking a sip of his wine. His voice has dropped all pleasantries. “You know, sneaking out without telling anyone at a time like this is stupid, even for you.”

Hinata’s face flushes with annoyance and shame. “It’s the only way I’d be able to leave the castle! Not like I could waltz out without being surrounded by guards,” he exclaims.

“I suppose I could overlook your carelessness and forget about this if I felt bad,” Oikawa muses, head lulling back and forth. His eyes settle back on Hinata, serious and cold. “But I don’t. This isn’t about you being bored. It’s about your safety.”

“Ugh, I know! I get it already,” Hinata huffs out, falling backwards onto his mattress with a thump. He hates when Oikawa gets all serious and scary.

“Then tell me what I want to hear,” Oikawa replies.

Hinata raises his head, glaring at his advisor. “I won’t do it again,” he mutters.

“What was that?” Oikawa asks, cupping his ear and leaning forward in his chair.

“I said I won’t do it again!” Hinata yells out frustratedly.

Oikawa gives a hum, standing and finishing the last of his wine. “Glad to hear it, Your Highness. Now, I’ll be off to my quarters so you can get some rest,” he says amicably.

Hinata glares at his retreating form. Using the formality for the first time at the end of it all makes it feel cheap. He rolls his head into a pillow and groans.

Before he leaves, Oikawa peers over his shoulder. “Why were you at one of the fighting arenas in the first place?”

Hinata sighs, raising enough to speak. Of course Oikawa knows exactly where he was somehow. He didn’t appoint the man as his advisor for nothing, he supposes. “Helps clear my head,” he explains quietly.

Oikawa’s gaze remains on him a couple extra seconds, before he nods and closes the door behind him without another word.


	2. The Message

It is common for Akaashi to be the first one up in the mornings. Waking up close before sunrise each day became second nature to him during childhood, leaving the habit ingrained into his body through to adulthood. Sometimes in his dreams, as he is breaking sleep he can hear the familiar sounds of bells ringing to signal wake-up time. Whenever it happens, he is left rising out of bed with a small frown in place.

He dresses in loose clothes and grabs his training bow on his way out of his room, following normal morning routine to get target practice in. The sun is close to breaking horizon, orange hues bleeding into the darker blue sky in the east as he exits the fort. He notices Kageyama’s horse in the small stable while he walks by to gather his targets, wondering if Sugawara knows he has returned. He will be relieved once he realizes, Akaashi thinks.

The air is quiet all around him at this time of day, his breaths coming out in small puffs with the crisp morning temperature. Akaashi does not mind the cold, even if his nose and tips of his ears are starting to feel slightly numb while he finishes tying the last of his targets up in the surrounding forest.

Eyes already adjusting to the low light, he begins warm ups by shooting the targets at various distances. After multiple rounds, Akaashi retreats into the treetops, practicing shots from high in the branches. He accidently splits a target in half with a clean shot to the center, sighing when the target crumbles to the ground with a loud crack. That makes the third one he broke this month and gold is short right now, considering the time between their last job and now. Akaashi climbs down from the tree, retrieving his arrows and decides to cleanup so he can get back in time for breakfast. It is much warmer now, the morning sun high and quickly heating up the air around him.

Normally he would bring back a rabbit or two for breakfast but considering yesterdays hunt, there is no need. Akaashi returns to the fort and before it comes to view through the trees, he hears clanging. He assumes it means Iwaizumi and Daichi are getting morning training in as well. He breaks the treeline and sees Daichi swinging his training axe towards Iwaizumi, who grips his sword tight and parries the blow. Akaashi continues to approach silently, only being noticed by Iwaizumi in his peripheral.

“Akaashi, good mo-“ his boss is cut off with a loud yell as Daichi’s axe catches his arm. “What the hell Daichi!”

“You’re fault for getting distracted!” The brigand responds chipperly, dodging the counter swing coming his way.

“My apologies, Iwaizumi,” Akaashi says with a bow of his head as he walks by the stable to drop off his targets and discard of the broken one. Daichi comes out victorious in their spar and the two of them take a break to properly speak with Akaashi.

“Another broken target?” Iwaizumi asks, glancing at the wooden pieces in Akaashi’s hands.

The sniper nods. “Yes. I do not think I will be able to fix this one,” he comments, eyeing the splintered target warily.

“We’re short of gold right now, but after our next job I’ll make sure we get more,” Iwaizumi comments, wiping sweat from his face.

“Oh, I did not mean to imply-“ Akaashi starts, to be interrupted by Daichi. “I could use a new throwing axe, my last one is gonna break any day now,” he chimes in.

Iwaizumi brings a hand to his face in thought. “Yea, and I’ve been itching to get my hands on a nice sword,” he adds in. “I’ll ask Kuroo if there’s anything small we can pick up for some extra gold later today.”

Akaashi stares between the two of them uncomfortably, sighing in defeat. “Yes, of course,” he answers politely, excusing himself back to the fort.

* * *

Sugawara hums pleasantly to himself as he places the loaf of bread on the table to cool down. He’s feeling a lot better this morning compared to yesterday, sitting up worried like a “mother hen” as Kuroo so eloquently put it, until Daichi stopped by his room and basically forced him to lay down and sleep. It’s not that Sugawara doesn’t believe Kageyama is capable of fending for himself. He learned through his many years working and travelling alongside Kageyama spent a lot of his youth on his own, forcing him to gain valuable survival skills out of it. It doesn’t negate the anxiety he felt throughout the night, but waking up and learning from Daichi that Kageyama made it back safely washes the worry away rather easily.

He still plans on interrogating their youngest member as soon as he gets the opportunity and is blessed with such luck, turning around and flinching at the sight of Kageyama standing awkwardly in the doorway to their small dining area.

“Ah! Don’t sneak up on me!” Sugawara cries out frustratedly. Kageyama nods his head, not saying anything. He looks exhausted, slouched slightly and dark skin prominent around his eyes. Sugawara approaches him with a stern expression, trying to let it mask his concern.

“Did you get this from your adventure last night?” The healer asks, pointing to a poorly cleaned gash on Kageyama’s forehead.

Kageyama gives a hum of acknowledgement, testing the skin with a light press of his fingers. “I wouldn’t call it an adventure,” he murmurs back.

Sugawara sighs, gesturing for Kageyama to sit down at one of the tables. The younger man complies without protest, already knowing Sugawara isn’t about to let him walk off without it getting checked out.

“You should have come to me right away,” Sugawara murmurs as he examines the gash up close. “It’s a deep cut.”

“It was late by the time I returned,” Kageyama justifies simply.

Sugawara shakes his head, grabbing a cloth and dampening it to clean the wound as best as he can. Kageyama is rigid and quiet the entire time, but Sugawara can tell by the way his fists are clenched in his lap it hurts at least a little. Once it’s cleaned as best he can, Sugawara hovers his palm above the wound, concentrating his magic until a small glow radiates from his hand. Pulling back his hand back, he observes the skin.

“You’re lucky it didn’t scar,” Sugawara comments once he’s done, thumping Kageyama’s shoulder and standing up to finish preparing breakfast. Kageyama remains silent as he sits at the table, staring at the cooling bread longingly.

“I thought you would have asked where I was,” he hears Kageyama from behind. Sugawara smiles down at the smoked meat he plates, turning around to bring it to the table.

“There will be plenty of time for explanations once everyone’s here,” the healer answers sweetly. Kageyama’s expression blanks out, blinking at the plate of steaming meat and nervously up at Sugawara.

“Come now, Tobio. Go round up Daichi and Iwaizumi, they’re sparring outside,” he orders gently, shooing him out of his seat and to the door. Kageyama’s lips are pursed in discomfort, but he shuffles off to fulfill the request. Sugawara chuckles to himself, getting a little bit of pride at the fact that Kageyama obeys him like he’s an older brother. He can’t deny it would make him happy if Kageyama saw him in such a way.

Akaashi wanders to the dining area like clockwork and Sugawara greets him chipperly, accepting the offer of help to finish preparing the table. Once Kageyama has returned with Iwaizumi and Daichi, voices loud and booming from down the hall, the two say their hellos and seat themselves. Sugawara slaps Daichi’s hand away when he reaches for the plate of meat to start serving himself.

“Kuroo’s not here yet,” he scolds, watching Daichi glare with no real malice and pull his hand back slowly. Iwaizumi laughs at him.

As if mentioning his name summons him, Kuroo rolls in not a minute later. He occupies a seat next to Akaashi, yawning out his good mornings.

“Rough night?” Iwaizumi asks with an arch of his brow.

“Practicing new spells. Lost track of time,” Kuroo explains, half mumbled nonsense.

With everyone present, Sugawara gives the okay and isn’t surprised to see all but himself and Akaashi immediately reach for the smoked meat. Sugawara rolls his eyes playfully and accepts a slice of bread Akaashi cuts off and offers to him with a thanks. At least there’s one person here with table manners, he thinks as he watches the others stuff their faces and fills his plate.

As usual, no leftovers are on the table and Sugawara is content with a full belly, leaning back in his chair and smiling at the group. The rest of them look to be just as satisfied as himself, chatting amicably together. It’s the little things- moments like these, which make him feel like he’s truly at home.

Of course these moments don’t tend to last long, especially since Daichi speaks up after finishing his plate. “Kageyama, you were gone last night,” he comments plainly.

Sugawara blinks across the table, not expecting him to dive right into it. Considering how last night Daichi was the one consoling Sugawara and assuring him Kageyama would be fine, he sounds more upset than expected. Maybe he’s committed to having Sugawara’s back on this one, since he knows he was truly upset.

Kageyama’s eyes shift to his plate uncomfortably. “Yes. I entered a fighting tournament in one of the arenas,” he admits, almost timidly.

Silence follows and Kageyama raises his head to take in their expressions. Sugawara knows his face is shocked, also a little mortified, mouth hanging open and eyes dumfounded.

“Why would you do that?” Sugawara asks harshly as Daichi asks eagerly, “Well, how did you do?”

Their gazes find each other and Sugawara glares at Daichi who has the decency to appear sheepish, shrugging. They look back to the table when a clinking sound meets the wood. A black pouch filled with gold spills onto the table.

“Oh hoh?” Kuroo leans forward, eyeing the gold with a smirk. “You must have done pretty good then.”

Kageyama grunts, swallowing down a piece of meat. He glances at Iwaizumi as he speaks. “You said a few days ago we were getting low on funds.”

Sugawara sends a glare his way next and Iwaizumi flinches back, shaking his head. “Wait- I never asked him to do this!” He protests.

“He didn’t,” Kageyama insists, drawing Sugawara’s attention back. “I didn’t tell anyone because I knew you wouldn’t approve, Sugawara-san,” he admits, a hint of guilt in his voice.

All eyes are on him now and Sugawara sighs heavily, closing his own. “Well, you’re right. I wouldn’t have,” he reasons. “Those tournaments are awful.”

Another silence fills the room and Sugawara stands from his chair, shrugging in defeat. “Next time, don’t take the responsibility of finances upon yourself Tobio. We can all get by without resorting to fighting pits,” he scolds. “I’ll leave the cleanup to you this morning," he adds.

Kageyama nods stiffly, and Sugawara glances to Daichi as he’s walking off to work on some daily chores, pausing to point at him. “And you better not be encouraging this,” he warns in a low tone. Daichi is taken aback, hands raised in mock surrender, but looking genuinely intimidated.

When Sugawara exits, he hears the hushed sounds of Iwaizumi and Kuroo interrogating Kageyama about the tournament. _What were the guys like? How many did you fight? What kind of weapons?_

Though he can’t stand the idea of Kageyama fighting like a dog in a ring, Sugawara shakes his head and doesn’t linger on it. If he held onto every little thing his friends put him through, he’d be in an early grave.

* * *

Kenma sips his tea, glancing over the courtyard from their spot in the shade and focusing on nothing in particular. It’s hot even in the shade of the canopy, the early afternoon heat set in all around him. The scent of pine hangs loosely in the air, Shouyou’s favourite kind of tea sitting in two cups on the small table, alongside empty plates containing slices of various cakes shortly before Shouyou devoured most of them. Kenma politely rejected the third slice Shouyou tried to slide over to his side, already feeling sickly at having eaten a second in one sitting. Sitting outside like this is low on the list of things Kenma wants to be doing right now, but he doesn’t mind pretending it’s fine since Shouyou agreed to play chess with him.

Shouyou spends minutes studying the board with a hand to his chin and various facial expressions plastered on his face throughout his internal planning. Eventually, he lifts a hand and moves his king gently. He smiles, nodding to himself at the decision having-been made.

Kenma’s eyes flicker back to the chessboard, taking in his options for about seventeen seconds and moving his rook. “Check mate,” he murmurs quietly, resting back in his seat.

“What!?” Shouyou bursts out, standing up abruptly and staring down at the table. His wide eyes study the board and unwillingly accept his defeat. He slumps back down dejectedly. “Ugh, I thought I was in the clear! I was going to take your queen next turn too!”

“You can’t say for certain,” Kenma responds. “I could have ruined that plan too.”

“Chess is so hard! I don’t know how you do it Kenma,” Shouyou grumbles, folding his arms over the table and lowering his head onto them like a pouting child. Kenma stares with a bemused look in his eyes, taking another sip of tea and glancing over the courtyard again. A small breeze pushes through his hair, the coolness welcomed.

“You don’t consider all your options,” Kenma criticizes. “You have to observe moves from different angles.”

Shouyou grunts into his arms in acknowledgement, brain probably fried from focusing on the game for so long.

“I did what you asked of me,” Kenma comments.

“Eh? And you waited till now to tell me!?” Shouyou squawks, raising his head and slamming his hands on the table. Kenma flinches at the outburst, staring at the Prince with a raised eyebrow.

Shouyou scrambles to catch the pieces toppling and starting to roll towards the edge of the table. “Sorry! It’s just, you could have brought it up two games ago,” he amends.

“But then you wouldn’t have paid them any attention,” Kenma protests calmly. He watches Shouyou rearranging the pieces on the chess board.

“Okay, okay, you have a point. Go on then, I’ve waited long enough!” He encourages, lining the pawns up in a row.

Kenma’s eyes follow the movement, biting back pointing out he only found out thirty seconds ago. “He’s not from the city. He’s got a very low profile, despite his nickname.”

Shouyou hums to himself, a low sound.

“He’s a mercenary, which explains why he’d fight for money. Works for a very small group, no more than five of them,” Kenma continues. “They’re all diverse fighters. Strong.”

“That is small,” Shouyou muses, working on rearranging Kenma’s side of the board. “Do they travel a lot?”

“They used to,” Kenma explains. “But it seems in recent years they’ve taken up a residency in the countryside.”

“You know where?”

“Of course.”

A half-smirk forms on Shouyou’s lips. Kenma is a bit put off by it, not used to seeing his friend look as if he’s scheming.

“There’s something else,” Kenma adds reluctantly, knowing it will undoubtedly feed the fire. Shouyou glances up at him curiously, waiting for him to elaborate.

“Apparently this so-called, “King” specializes in bounty hunting.”

It’s impossible to miss the sparks ricocheting in Shouyou’s eyes following the words. Kenma frowns, getting a heavy pit inside his gut.

“Shouyou,” Kenma says, eyes cool but holding warning. “Don’t act rash.”

Shouyou leans back in his chair, staring at the reset chess board game thoughtfully. “I’m considering all my options Kenma,” he recites, picking up a pawn and moving it forward.

“White goes first,” Kenma reminds him politely. Shouyou laughs nervously, rubbing a hand in his hair and brushing it off like he was teasing.

Kenma continues to sneak glances at him throughout their next game which Shouyou will inevitably lose at, considering his pitiful track record. Chess isn’t his specialty. Taking the time to be patient and plan, as well as adapting to unknown change has never been in his nature.

Or so Kenma thought.

* * *

Bokuto yawns loudly to himself, groaning as well because there’s no one else around for miles to hear him do it, so who cares? It should be close to sunrise and yet the lands as far as he can see are still dark and quiet, the rest of the world sleeping.

“I should be sleeping too!” He grumbles aloud, yawning again. Sure, he was delighted that Lord Kozume sought him out during training to pull him aside and assign him a, “top secret” mission the other day, but Bokuto definitely was not expecting it to be something as lame as delivering a message. What’s so secretive about that? And he was _especially_ not expecting to be sent out in the dead of night, all on his own. Waking up this early is worse than being put through rookie training, he decides.

You see, Bokuto is a very social person. Sure, he’s a young knight who keeps his mouth shut on guard or in front of the nobles, but travelling on his own across the countryside to some small fort he’d never heard of is terrible. Outright awful. What is he supposed to do to pass time along this path while trying not to fall asleep atop of his horse? Even she ignores him when Bokuto attempts to chat with the mare.

The sunrise comes as a minor blessing, giving him a bit of distraction to observe the rolling plains in the distance. The source of light is much nicer than his small lantern, giving him nothing more than a few feet of sight in front of him. He douses the flame and gives a big yell for the sake of breaking silence. He smiles at the sound of his voice echoing in the distance.

“Man, this sucks,” Bokuto whines only minutes later, rubbing his hands together to warm them up. Why couldn’t someone else have been the one to get assigned this mission? Just his luck as the newbie to get the grunt work, even if this is supposedly important.

Eventually, he reaches the peak of a valley and once over the threshold, gives a sound of excitement. Stretched down the sloping field, a large cluster of trees is gathered in the distance. “That must be the forest!” He yells, pulling his map from the side saddle and examining it. The parchment confirms his suspicions and Bokuto whoops in joy, grabbing hold of his horse’s reins and kicking her off into a gallop. He’d have this message delivered in no time!

He reaches the edge of the forest quick, slowing his horse down to a walk once he’s crossed inside. The trees are packed fairly dense, not giving him much room to steer freely. Better to keep a slow pace from here on out, he supposes. The fort shouldn’t be much farther, according to Lord Kozume. It sure should be easy to pick out in a place like this too. Who would build a fort in a forest anyway? No one would know about its existence unless they know this area really well.

The forest comes alive with the rise of the sun. Chirps of insects and bird overlap, beginning their day with various calls to one another. Though the trees filter most of the sunlight out, there are patches breaking through here and there, giving Bokuto a bit of warmth on his face. He exhales peacefully, finally feeling fully awake. It only took long hours of travelling.

“I guess this isn’t so bad, right Luna?” Bokuto asks the horse with a grin, patting her mane. “The sun’s out now, the birds are chirping and I-“

A whizzing flies next to his face, the sound of air cutting right by his ear and instantly shutting him up. A guttural instinct fills Bokuto’s blood swiftly, head turning around to see an arrow stuck in a tree trunk right behind him. That surely would have caught him in the eye had it been off a few inches.

“Hold your position,” a voice commands calmly before he can reach for his lance. Bokuto whips his head in front of him, getting his horse under control and coming to a stop. He turns towards the sound but doesn’t see anybody around him.

“Up,” the voice continues. It’s quiet, yet holding a confidence which unnerves Bokuto. His eyes drift above to see a man perched in the branch of a tree, bow and arrow drawn and aimed straight at Bokuto.

“Wait!” Bokuto cries out, holding his arms up. “Don’t shoot, I’m innocent!”

There’s a pause and the bow is lowered slightly. The man gazes at Bokuto with skepticism in his eyes. He’s young, maybe around Bokuto’s age, dressed in simple boots, trousers and an old shirt. But Bokuto can tell by the look in his eyes and the way he was pointing the bow just now, he is much more than simple.

“You’re a palace guard,” the man points out, still holding an arrow to his bow though the string isn’t pulled taut anymore and it’s pointed towards the ground.

“Ah, yes!” Bokuto exclaims. His armour bears the sun crest of the castle, easily recognizable to even those outside the city. “I’ve been sent by the Prince himself. Do you live in the fort around here?” He asks.

The sniper’s eyes stay trained on Bokuto, taking a moment before he responds. “Sent for what?” He returns, voice holding an air of caution.

Bokuto reaches for the scroll attached to his horse, holding it up with a hand. “To give a message! For um,” he pauses, trying to remember the details. “Someone called, Kago- Kagi-“

“Kageyama?” The man fills in.

“That’s the one!” Bokuto exclaims. “You know him?”

The man breaks eye contact, his gaze shifting to the side. “Yes,” he answers.

“Great, you can help me deliver this to him then!” Bokuto says, grabbing the reins and approaching the tree the man is in. “Hey, how’d you get up there anyway? It's pretty high.”

Up closer he takes note of the man’s thick, dark hair, curling into waves at the ends around the nape of his neck. He’s got a lot of soft features on his face, high cheekbones and a slender nose. Easy on the eyes, to be frank.

“I climbed,” he answers.

Bokuto barks out a laugh. “Sure, but _how?_ I don’t think I could get up there if I tried,” he muses with a hand to his face while he studies the tree. Maybe if he ran and jumped to the closest branch?

The sniper leaps down from the tree in a fell swoop, landing on his feet in front of Bokuto. He walks by to retrieve the arrow stuck in the tree. “I’ll take you to see Kageyama,” he comments, ignoring Bokuto’s question and replacing the arrow into his quiver strapped over his shoulder. “Please allow me to gather my targets first though,” he explains with a slight bow of his head.

“Targets?” Bokuto asks, rather confused as he watches the man walk over to one tied to a tree. It has three arrows lodged into it; two on the bullseye and one outside the inner ring.

“Woah, were you shooting those from up there!?” Bokuto continues.

The man turns his head to stare at Bokuto again. He sure does like doing that, huh? Clearly a quiet type of guy. Bokuto doesn’t mind, preferring to be the one filling the silence as it is. “Yes,” he answers simply, removing the arrows and taking down the target.

Bokuto catches sight of a couple others in the distance, all sporting at least a few arrows in the bullseye. “Incredible! Here, I’ll help you,” he offers, jumping down from his horse and running towards one of the targets.

“You don’t have to-“ but the man cuts himself off, watching Bokuto carry the target over to him with a bright smile on his face. “Ah, thank you,” he resigns, accepting the arrows and target then adding it to his pile on the ground.

“Not a problem! You know, you’re awfully polite for someone who almost shot me clean cut!” Bokuto teases.

A neutral expression remains on the sniper’s face. “And you’re awfully loud for someone travelling from the Kingdom at dawn,” he returns.

Bokuto blinks at him blankly and bursts out in laughter. “Hah, I like you! I’m Sir Bokuto, newest member to the Royal Guard!” He introduces proudly, hands on his hips.

The man looks up from the next target he’s taking down, offering the barest of smiles. It’s enough for Bokuto to notice and feel his jaw slackening at the sight. “Pleased to meet you Bokuto-san. You may call me Akaashi,” he responds politely.

“Ah,” Bokuto gets out before realizing he’s staring. His face feels a little warm. “The pleasure is mine!” He practically yells back. “Now let’s get the rest of these targets down, yea?”

“This is the last one,” Akaashi points out calmly, gathering them up into his arms. He starts walking further into the forest ahead. “Follow me please, Bokuto-san. I’ll take you to the fort so you may deliver your message.”

* * *

“Urg! I almost had you that time, I swear!” Hinata exclaims frustratedly. He stands up, grabbing the training sword knocked from his hands and faces Asahi again with his knees bent and a determined look on his face.

Asahi exhales tiredly, wiping sweat from his forehead. “Another round, Your Highness?” He asks doubtfully. The Prince has the same energy as usual and Asahi happened to be the poor sucker being lured into training with him, seeing as he spends each day at his side guarding him. “Don’t you think we should at least take a break yet?”

“While I’m just starting to get hits in on you!? I don’t think so!” Hinata retorts, pointing the wooden sword towards Asahi tauntingly. The knight smiles thinly, eyes shut and panting. Does he really think he has the upper hand because of that?

“Ah, I suppose I have no choice,” Asahi finally answers, gripping his practice sword with both hands. He falls into his ready stance and waits for Hinata to make the first attack.

Hinata is nimble and quick on his feet; Asahi is well aware of this. One second he’s in front of you, the next he’s behind swinging his sword at your skull. His downfalls show in two big errors (which Asahi has politely informed him of. Multiple times.), the first being he is very _loud_ when he’s making an attack. There’s always some kind of cry, or weird phrase coming out of his mouth that gives him away completely. The second is his love for power over anything. Give him the opportunity, and Hinata would jump strike every time in favour of quick slashes and jabs.

He doesn’t seem to realize, or he does and has no desire to correct it, when you miss the jump strike and land down with your blade on the ground it leaves a wide gap of retaliation. Easily exploitable, leading to the consistent wins Asahi has over him in their spars. He's not the one keeping track- he only knows because Hinata mentally stacks every single one of their battles in his head with a memory so sharp it frightens Asahi.

His stamina is proving to benefit the Prince; Hinata is fighting with the same level of vigor he possessed at the beginning of their sparring, whereas Asahi has fallen somewhere under sixty-percent. He’s sweating profusely, muscles tired from the repeated strain of their combat. Sure, Hinata doesn’t win any of their mock battles, but it doesn’t mean he’s a terrible fighter. He definitely puts Asahi to work.

Unsure if it’s his exhaustion setting in or not, Asahi wonders why Hinata’s steps seems to move lighter than normal. As if he’s concentrating on the shift in his balance more than normal so he can spring any which way in a moment’s notice. Asahi’s brows come downward, reacting quick enough to block a sudden swipe from the left. With those quick reflexes Asahi is constantly surprised by, Hinata shifts his weight and spins around behind Asahi. But of course he screams as he’s doing it, alerting Asahi’s reflexes enough to bring his sword up while he turns around to meet the blow head on. With a grunt, he pushes against Hinata back and knocks the sword cleanly from his hand.

Hinata stays in his fighting stance, fists brought up in front of himself defensively. Asahi sighs patiently, shaking his head. “Prince Hinata, you can’t fight without a weapon.”

“Sure I can!” Hinata protests, circling Asahi. “My fists are weapons, aren’t they?”

“Ye-ah!” A voice bellows from the training grounds entrance, catching Asahi’s attention. “Kick his ass, Your Highness!”

Asahi pales, betrayal written across his face. “N-nishinoya!” He protests weakly. Next thing he knows, a sharp jab is delivered to his wrist, causing him to drop the training sword. He glances in front of himself again at Hinata, who holds his sword, pointed up at Asahi’s face with a splitting grin.

Asahi can’t resist a sheepish laugh, raising his hands in surrender. “Okay, you got me,” he admits. “You had a bit of help though.”

Hinata cheers, running over to Nishinoya immediately and accepting his praise with a dramatic bow at the hip. Asahi sighs, thankful that he’s at least getting a bit of a break now. He joins the two overactive men, content with standing by the sidelines silently and observing with a small smile as they bounce around.

Nishinoya’s gaze leaves Hinata to meet Asahi’s. His eyes are energetic as always, holding enough vitality to fill a bottle of wine and then some. Black coal stains his hands as usual, and a small smudge is across his temple. He's wearing a large black apron over his dirtied clothes. Asahi guesses he must have been working on something earlier.

“Sorry Asahi!” He apologizes, thumb pointed towards his puffed out chest. “It’s nothing personal, but us little guys gotta stick together, ya know?”

Hinata crosses his arms and nods to himself. Asahi shrugs weakly. “It’s fine. You surprised me is all.”

“Giving the perfect opportunity for me to sneak in and disarm you!” Hinata exclaims, swinging his sword about wildly. Nishinoya laughs while Asahi holds his hands up to calm him down.

“Where’d you learn a move like that anyway?” Nishinoya asks, walking over to the other training sword on the ground and picking it up. Asahi catches the glint shooting across Hinata’s gaze.

“It’s a secret!” He says with a laugh, running back onto the grounds to face Nishinoya.

Asahi smiles in the shade under the balcony next to the weapons rack, thankful Nishinoya is taking a turn to wear the Prince out. He wonders if he did so knowing it would help Asahi out. He also hopes so, enjoying the thought more if it were the case.


	3. Into the Kingdom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been having a lot of fun with this!! hope y'all are enjoying it

The rest of the group has gathered in the dining area while Kageyama speaks with Bokuto privately near the front of the fort. Iwaizumi leans against the wall with his arms crossed, watching Sugawara tap his finger repeatedly on the table with an impatient look in his eyes. Akaashi sits next to him, remaining cool as always. Kuroo is lofting through the pages of a dusty, old tome, with the heel of his hand supporting his face while his elbow rests on the table.

“Don’t you think you should be there too?” Sugawara finally breaks the silence, addressing Iwaizumi.

Daichi approaches the table slowly, a cup of tea balanced in his hand. He places it gently in front of Sugawara, taking a seat across from the healer.

“Why? The message was for him, not me,” Iwaizumi replies.

Sugawara holds his gaze like he’s going to argue back, but instead makes eye contact with Daichi for a moment, then sighs and takes a small sip of the tea. “Right.”

Iwaizumi is continuously astounded by how those two seem to communicate whole conversations without a single word. He can’t ever imagine himself having that sort of dynamic with someone.

“It’s very interesting to say the least,” Kuroo pipes in, not looking up from his tome even though he appears bored of it. Akaashi nods next to him.

“I’ll say,” Daichi agrees. “What could the Crown Prince want with Kageyama?”

“At first, you’d assume for hire. But he would’ve sent for Iwaizumi then, right?” Kuroo continues, flipping the page. “Then you roll down the list of common things, like detainment or proposals-“

“Proposals!?” Sugawara spits, tea spewing from his mouth. He gives an apologetic wince to Daichi, who now wears a grim expression and wipes at his face.

“Not that someone of high status would see Kageyama as a prospect,” Kuroo explains, a smirk toying at his lip as he glances up to see Sugawara glaring at him.

“Anybody would be lucky to marry Tobio!” He argues.

“A moment ago you sounded terrified at the idea,” Kuroo taunts, closing his book and resting his elbow on it. “But none of those things really add up. Who knows what it could be?” He muses.

Iwaizumi thinks the same thing. They’re all a bit antsy, wondering why the Prince would want anything to do with them. Their idle chatter dies immediately when Kageyama finally steps through the doorway. He pauses a little stiffly after recognizing all eyes are on him.

“Where’s the guard?” Sugawara grills immediately.

“Out front, getting his things together,” Kageyama says.

Daichi hops on next. “What was the message?”

“The Prince has requested my presence at the castle.”

Sugawara perks up. “For what?” He asks, antsy.

Kageyama shakes his head. “I don’t know, the message doesn’t say why.”

“Are you going to go?” Daichi pipes back in. Iwaizumi holds back a sigh. They’re practically his overbearing parents at this point.

“I don’t think he has much of a choice,” Kuroo answers for him. “The Prince might be offended if he declines the offer. Royalty don’t typically take rejection well.”

“Is that true Akaashi?” Sugawara checks.

“To put it candidly, yes,” Akaashi says.

“Ah, I don’t like the sounds of this,” Sugawara groans, running a hand through his light hair. “You win a fighting tournament and days later the Prince summons you? Doesn’t this sound bad to anyone else?” He asks, waving a hand.

“If they wanted him arrested, they wouldn’t have sent one guard with a message,” Kuroo says.

Kageyama speaks up again, drawing everyone’s attention. “I don’t have a problem going,” he explains, then turns to Iwaizumi. “But you should read the message too.”

Iwaizumi takes the scroll held out to him, opening it and scanning the document. Reading isn’t his strongest talent, but he picks out enough of it to gather the gist.

“What is it, Iwaizumi?” Daichi asks, probably noticing the surprised look on his face.

“It’s not just Kageyama,” he answers, raising his head from the scroll towards his comrades. “The Prince wants all of us to attend as well.”

* * *

The light sounds of his footsteps are the only sound to be heard down the dark and quiet alley Tsukishima strides down. He’s got a pocket filled with coin and a handful of bread to snack on as he makes his way back to the abandoned house for the night. It’s usually where he sleeps, since the only occupants inside are usually orphans or squatters like himself. Not much of a place to call home, but Tsukishima doesn’t bother thinking about trivial things like that. It’s just a place to catch a break between the days.

A sharp cry alerts him, coming from somewhere nearby. It must be pretty close judging by how clearly he hears it. There’s sounds of scuffling and other loud voices after, sending Tsukishima towards the commotion on quick feet. He rounds a few corners in the alleyways, only to come across what appears to be a mugging. He stays hidden behind the corner, peeking out enough to see two guys pinning someone to the brick wall while a third slugs him in the face. A sharp cry hits Tsukishima’s ears, timid and pained.

More sounds of shuffling and another plea from the victim. “No, please-“ he tries, but is cut of with another yelp when struck in the stomach. He’s told to shut up by one of the thugs.

Tsukishima sighs, rather annoyed. He takes a last bite of his bread before approaching silently on light feet, completely unnoticed until he’s within arms reach of the one primarily giving the beating. He can smell the alcohol on their breaths from feet away, knowing this will be an easy task to deal with. Drunk men never hold up well.

“Hey, what the hell do you think-“ the man starts, but Tsukishima doesn’t give him the freedom to continue, throwing a sharp elbow to his face and grabbing his collar as he stumbles backwards. He brings the drunkard close and drives his knee upward, hearing a loud crack and releasing the man only for him to fall backwards onto the ground unconsciously.

Tsukishima turns to deal with the other two, using their stunned reactions to his advantage and punching one swiftly in the jaw. He promptly slams him against the wall, punching him until he's limp and dropping his body to the ground. With one remaining, Tsukishima turns to finish him and sees he’s retreating, stumbling down the alley to get away.

Finally, he focuses on the victim, slumped down to the ground and cradling his head in his hands. Figuring he's safe, he lowers his arms. Though it’s dark, Tsukishima’s eyes are adjusted and he can make out subtle details, like the short dark hair and wide fearful eyes. One of them is already swelling shut.

The young man shuffles forward on his hands and knees towards the first guy Tsukishima took out, reaching a shaking hand to retrieve a small pouch from his pockets. He observes as the guy stands up, looking at Tsukishima wearily.

“You…” the man stutters out quietly.

Tsukishima’s eyes narrow. “Get out of here,” he orders.

The man’s eyes widen again, taken aback. “What?”

“You’d be an idiot to walk around alone in a place like this during daytime, let alone night,” Tsukishima comments coolly, beginning to walk down the alleyway.

There’s scuffling of footsteps behind him, and a small yelp as the guy trips over one of the men’s unconscious bodies. “Wait! You didn’t let me thank you!” He protests.

Tsukishima steps out into a dimly lit street with few torches hanging up, turning around to glare at the man following him. He comes into sight and Tsukishima notices the many freckles standing out on the man’s face, as well as the peeking of tan lines on the collar of his neck. “What makes you think I want it?” He snaps back.

The brunet blinks, stepping back cautiously. “Oh, um,” he rubs a hand nervously behind his head. “Maybe a gift then?” He suggests, shaking the pouch he took back from the thug. It clinks quietly.

Tsukishima raises an eyebrow, turning to face him completely. “Walking around with a pocket full of gold and nothing to protect yourself?” He points out doubtfully. His eyes meet the man’s. “You really are stupid, aren’t you?”

Though his words are cold, the brunet doesn’t seem to be horribly offended, shrugging sheepishly. “Well, I had to get the money to my parents, but I was working late tonight. I’ve never run into trouble like this…” he trails off.

Tsukishima doesn’t remember asking, but takes in the words with a cross of his arms over his chest. “Are they close by?” He asks, gazing pointedly down the street.

“Oh, yes! Not far from here actually,” the man says chipperly. He reaches for several coins, holding them out to Tsukishima. “Take this, please. You saved my life.”

Tsukishima rolls his eyes. “You wouldn’t have died, just beaten silly,” he answers, eyeing the coins warily. Taking it somehow feels, dirty. Which is a nearly laughable concept considering he used to make a living off thievery. He’s not sure why this is any different. He actually earned this, in a sense.

“Get it to your parents and go home already,” Tsukishima declines, turning back around and starting to walk off. “And don’t wander down anymore alleys.” He adds irritably.

Again, his iced-up words are overlooked, like he said something nice. “Right! Thanks again um…” The brunet trails off.

He sighs to himself. “Tsukishima,” he gets out loud enough for the man to hear him.

“Thanks, Tsukishima!” The man says eagerly. “I’m Yamaguchi, by the way!” He adds.

Tsukishima ignores him, turning the corner of the street and continuing to wander. He makes a circular path back around the streets, staying in the shadows far from sight and watching Yamaguchi deliver the pouch of gold. Tsukishima sees him wave nonchalantly at who he suspects is his mother, when she frets about the mark on his face in the doorway of her home.

Tsukishima realizes partway through tailing Yamaguchi back to wherever he lives (which seems close to the north end of the city), that he’s way far off course from the abandoned house. Annoyed with how invested he ended up in all this, he pauses at a corner and watches Yamaguchi humming to himself for a moment longer before he turns around, blending back in with the night. Just to prove to himself he in fact, doesn’t care about this at all.

* * *

Kageyama trails with the rest of his team in silence, paying more attention to the busy streets they’re riding along than where he’s being lead to. He doesn’t come to the city often, and when he does it’s past sunset and there’s not nearly as many people about. Laughter, chatter and yelling come from every direction. Kids run by them chasing one another while young women walk carrying baskets of laundry over their head. He can’t say he enjoys being in such a crowded place. Too many people packed together.

They ride by a large display full of fresh fish and meats, earning a longing stare from Kageyama and a laugh out of Sugawara. He reminds Kageyama they have enough meat for at least two weeks and the black-haired man huffs, flustered he was caught staring.

The trek through the city to the castle gates takes a long time. Much longer than Kageyama would have taken if he was on his own. Already impatient and still unsure as to what the Prince wants with him, leaves Kageyama on edge as the guards open the large gate and Bokuto escorts them towards the castle.

Sugawara is the first to react, giving a sound of awe. “This is incredible! I’ve never seen the castle up close like this before, it’s huge!” He admires, his head turning back and forth.

Kageyama stays silent while the others give similar sounds of acknowledgement. He’s worked for a few Lords in the past, but none of them owned estates remotely comparable to this. The outer gardens stretch widely around them, surrounded in hedges and various blooming flowers. A few servants are tending to the plants, giving them curious glances as they pass on through towards the castle. They don’t exactly blend into a place like this, Kageyama supposes. Bokuto lowers himself from his horse and calls out a greeting to an approaching servant who takes it by the reins. A few others come to take the rest of their horses, leading the animals towards the stables behind the castle.

Not far ahead on the path, stacks of stone stairs lead up to the gigantic castle. Coming to a stop at the bottom of the stairs, Kageyama has to crane his head up to see the top of the castle. Countless hours of work and manpower must have been put into building this. It’s almost unfathomable to him, never seeing such a sight. He wouldn’t say it adds a layer of nervousness to his mood, but it definitely reminds him he’s in the home of an incredibly powerful family.

When they reach the top of the steps, Bokuto turns around to address them with a smile. “Alright! We’re headed to the throne room first,” he explains, walking through the double doors held open by a pair of servants.

The group remains quiet as they trail through. Kageyama hears Daichi talking lowly to Sugawara. “You don’t look so happy to be here anymore.”

“No, it’s nothing like that,” Sugawara replies in a hushed voice. “I’m a little overwhelmed, I think.”

They’re led up another set of stairs in the grand entrance hall. Another pair of doors open and it seems to be a large, open empty room. Until Kageyama notices far ahead at the other side a gathering of people, standing in front of a raised platform containing the throne and a banner with the sun crest on it hanging from the wall. Several heads turn back to observe the newcomers, but Kageyama hears a conversation continuing at the front as they walk down the long runway.

The throne is occupied by who Kageyama assumes is King, but Kageyama chooses to observe the makings of the large room in favour of staring, not paying much attention. Had he bothered a glimpse, he might have questioned why the man sitting on the throne, bored out of his mind, isn't wearing a crown.

A second story balcony stretches around the perimeter of the room, with clusters of people leaning against the railings and staring at the mercenaries incredulously. They’re all dressed in fancy clothes, ranging in various vibrant colours and patterns he’s never seen before. Kageyama glares lightly, not favouring some of the dirty glares pointed at them. There’s a certain air of egocentrism he’s quickly beginning to pick up on here.

Near the back of the room, Kageyama misses the way the King’s hands bang down of the throne’s arm rests excitedly. “Bokuto!” He exclaims, interrupting the man addressing him. “You’re back!”

Kageyama’s head snaps towards the voice, recognizing it without placing where he knows it from.

Until he locks eyes with the familiar pair of energetic wide ones, belonging to a young man with the brightest coloured hair he’s ever seen, sitting on the throne. 

* * *

“Your Highness!” Bokuto responds, approaching the throne and taking a kneel. “I completed the task as Lord Kozume asked!” He responds.

“Excellent work, I knew you were the right fit!” Hinata beams back, motioning for him to rise.

A voice clears to his right and Hinata looks up at Oikawa, standing next to him with his hands folded behind his back and a hard stare towards the group of armed men. “Your Highness, I didn’t expect…guests.”

Hinata pretends like the tone is his advisor’s voice doesn’t send a chill down his spine, turning to address the out-of-place men. “Ah, it must have slipped my mind!” He reasons lightly. “Come forward then,” he says, waving them over.

The men share unsure glances between themselves, but one steps forward; another man with dark hair like Kageyama’s, who has a bow and quiver slung behind his back. He’s dressed the most formally of them all, in a fitted dark jacket, matching slacks and leather boots.

He stops next to Bokuto, kneeling with his head low as he addresses Hinata. “Your Highness, it is our honour to be in your presence,” he offers quietly.

The others approach hesitantly, following the lead and kneeling, save for Kageyama, who has a narrowed gaze on Hinata. He’s forcibly pulled down by a shorter man with kind eyes and light hair, probably scolding Kageyama by the way he leans close to whisper something into his ear.

The corners of Hinata’s mouth slip upward slyly. “Thank you. You may rise,” he instructs, watching them stand again.

“I’d like to speak with our guests in the council room at this time,” Hinata announces, standing from his throne. He turns to face Oikawa, feeling more confident in the face of his rigid stare. “Summon Kenma and meet us there,” he orders, stepping down the few stairs from the throne. He hears Asahi’s footsteps trailing behind, the clicking of armour echoing in the suddenly hushed room.

“Of course, Your Highness,” Oikawa returns curtly.

“Bokuto, I’d like you to join us as well,” Hinata adds. He turns to a servant and addresses them politely. “Please see that food and drink is brought to our guests.”

The servant nods and starts retreating towards the kitchens. Hinata hears Bokuto gathering the mercenaries to follow and for the first time, feels like he’s able to completely conceal the excitement barraging his mind.

The group of men remain quiet filing into the council room. It has a large, ornate, rectangular table with lots of chairs surrounding it and a large map of the province spread out atop. Hinata takes a seat at the head of the table, settling in to get comfy and laughing when no one else moves from their positions standing nearby.

“Please, don’t leave me hanging here! Everyone, sit. Knights included,” Hinata encourages. Asahi occupies a seat a few gaps away from Hinata reluctantly with Bokuto on the other side of him. The mercenaries sit far at the other end of the table and remain silent. They’re probably all on edge, which makes sense he supposes.

“I hope your travels went well on the way here?” Hinata suggests, trying to start a conversation.

“Yes, they were fine,” a man with short, dark, spiky hair responds. He flinches slightly when the polite man nudges him with his elbow. “Your Highness!” He adds in swiftly.

Hinata catches the man dressed in black robes raising his long, loose sleeve over his face to mask a snicker.

A friendly smile crosses Hinata’s face. “Please, no need for formalities like this. You can address me as Hinata from here on.”

The polite man’s eyebrows furrow unsurely. The group looks towards the door after a few raps on the other side signal someone else’s arrival. Oikawa walks in stiffly, with Kenma following in tow, his head low. Hinata greets him and asks the two to join at the table. Kenma sits to the left of Hinata, refusing to make eye contact with anyone else at the table. Oikawa on the other hand, sits on the right side of the Prince tall and proud, eyeing each one of the mercenaries up like he’s about to hunt them.

Once the food and wine is brought in, Hinata finally begins. “Let’s start with some introductions! Which one of you is the leader here?” He asks eagerly.

“That would be me,” the spiky-haired man replies. “Iwaizumi Hajime, Your High-er, Hinata,” he corrects.

“Excellent!” Hinata says, pressing his hands together. In his peripheral, Oikawa take a large swig of his cup.

“To my left is Sawamura Daichi, and Kuroo Tetsurou,” Iwaizumi continues, pointing to a tanned, muscular man and the one in dark robes. “On my right is Akaashi Keiji, Sugawara Koushi and,” Iwaizumi pauses, pointing to the polite archer and the man with light hair, before settling on the last member. The one Hinata is most interested in. “Kageyama Tobio.”

Hinata’s elbows rest on the table, hands folded and supporting his chin while he grins. Kageyama is glaring at him from way down at the other end of the table. Not very subtly, might he add.

“Did you say Akaashi?” Oikawa repeats. Kenma is regarding the polite man with an observing gaze as well.

“Yes. I am the second son of Lord Akaashi,” he clarifies.

Hinata gives a hum of interest. “Ah, that’s a small house in the south, right?” He asks.

“In the north, Shouyou,” Kenma corrects quietly.

“That explains his manners then,” Oikawa huffs out, taking another drink. “I thought it was bizarre for a mercenary to articulate so well,” he reflects, swirling his drink slowly.

Hinata catches a pierced gaze in Iwaizumi’s eyes following the comment. “My turn then!” Hinata says quickly, gesturing to his right. “This is my personal guard, Sir Azumane Asahi. You met Sir Bokuto Koutarou earlier,” he eases. “This is my best friend Kozume Kenma, the one who did all the work finding you guys for me.”

Kenma presses himself further into his seat, obviously not wanting the attention. “And lastly, this is my advisor, Oikawa Tooru. He’s not very happy with me right now, as you can probably tell.”

“H-hinata,” Asahi says fretfully. Oikawa lowers his wine cup onto the table with a harsh sound.

“Well here’s the deal!” Hinata continues, palms pressing down onto the table. “I want to hire your group for a mission. At first, I was just interested in you after I saw you fight in the arena,” he points to Kageyama blatantly. “’King of Combat’!”

The men stare blankly. Asahi sighs from next to him while Hinata goes on. “But Kenma’s intel gave me a nice surprise. It seems you all have your own specialties,” Hinata says, nodding pleasantly to himself.

“Shouyou, you should tell them the details instead of dragging this on,” Kenma murmurs from next to him.

“Fine, fine,” Hinata grumbles, clenching his fists into tight balls. A seriousness settles into his tone. “I have three fugitives on the loose. I want you to capture them and bring them back to me to stand trial.”

The eyes that were once skeptical and unsure are all focused intently on him now. Especially Oikawa’s. Hinata holds his hand up to him before he says a word, preventing the objection the Prince suspected would come.

“If I may…” Sugawara speaks up. Hinata smiles, nodding eagerly for him to speak. “Why would you want to hire mercenaries and not use your own men?”

“Ah, you see, things in the castle are complicated right now-“

“Hinata,” Oikawa interrupts coldly. “It would be in your best interest to _stop_ speaking.”

The Prince stands up, eyes sharpening and giving Oikawa a challenging stare. “Let me finish,” he orders, pleasantries fallen from his voice. He watches Oikawa release a short breath, breaking eye contact. Hinata scans over the rest of the group. They seem to be caught off by the sudden shift in his demeanor.

“The fugitives are my own men,” he discloses, a crease coming between his eyebrows. “They conspired with my father’s advisor to assassinate him.”

Silence encompasses the room following Hinata’s statement. He’s not sure if the words sting more or the stillness in the room; either way, a tightness builds his throat as he resumes. “The advisor has since been imprisoned. We found out about the others through interrogation,” he explains, standing from his seat and walking towards the center of the table to point at two sections of the map. “Two of them went north, towards Mount Kurikoma and the last went east, towards Mastushima.”

He looks up to meet Kageyama’s eyes. “I’m told you’re good at what you do. After seeing you fight the other night, I’m convinced you’re qualified for this.”

“Of course I am,” Kageyama answers bluntly, addressing Hinata for this first time since their encounter in the street. His eyes sharpen into something distrustful. “But what makes you think I want to accept a job from you?”

Hinata’s eyes widen. Oikawa chokes on a sip of his wine and Kenma gives him a scrutinizing expression. Asahi is ready to pass out any moment now and Bokuto remains oddly quiet.

“K-kageyama,” Daichi eases. “Hinata has been very…accommodating for us, but remember you’re still speaking to a Prince,” he says.

Kageyama’s eyes stay locked with Hinata’s, challenging and distanced. “So what? I didn’t know his father and I have no obligation to serve him or the Royal Family,” he practically spits out.

“You have an obligation to keep that filthy tongue still before it’s sliced from your mouth,” Oikawa threatens lowly from across the table.

Again, Hinata catches a flash of anger in Iwaizumi’s eyes. Sugawara and Daichi don’t appear pleased, either. He’s not quick enough to beat Iwaizumi this time. “Kageyama has a point. I mean no disrespect, Your Highness,” Iwaizumi addresses Hinata. “But this hardly seems like an appropriate course of action to take, considering how serious the situation is.”

“The brute is right,” Oikawa echoes in with his arms crossed. Hinata can see a vein forming on Iwaizumi’s forehead. “How reliable can a group of greedy killers be when all they answer to is gold?”

All of the mercenaries are staring at Oikawa now, who ignores the heated gazes with ease.

“Strategically speaking,” Kenma jumps in, fixated on the table. “It’s not a bad move. The fugitives would be on watch for Kingdom soldiers, not mercenaries.”

“Plus, we have no internal ties to the Kingdom,” Kuroo contributes. Kenma glances at the man, which is surprising to Hinata. “All you need to keep us loyal is gold.”

Kenma’s cat-like eyes shift to Oikawa. “And gold is a resource we have plenty of to spare,” he finishes.

Kageyama has a strange expression on his face, making Hinata raise an eyebrow. He stares between the many expressions each person wears at the table, trying to think of what he could say to help his case. After a moment, he steps back and clears his throat.

“Take some time to think. I’d like to offer you space in the castle to stay overnight, since you travelled so far. We’ll meet tomorrow morning to discuss your answer,” Hinata says, concluding their meeting and starting towards the doorway. Asahi rises to follow along. “You’re free to wander the castle as you like. I’ll send for you when needed.”

* * *

Oikawa sits up from his slouched position in the chair of the council room, rubbing a hand over his face. He sent the mercenary group off with Bokuto, instructing him to keep them on the first floor only and keep watch of their every move. The leader of their group, Iwaizumi, looked about ready to attack Oikawa at any given notice. He’d be lying if he said getting the man riled up wasn’t so entertaining. That’s your classic thick-headed fool though; Always so quick to anger.

“Oh Chibi-chan, what are you getting us all into?” he muses to himself with a small groan, trying to make sense of the shitshow he sat through earlier. He decided to remain in the council room and drink until coming up with a good way to counter the situation. So far, not much has been achieved other than gaining a faint buzz.

To say Oikawa was surprised by this little stunt Hinata is attempting to pull would be a gross understatement. He thought the rash little Prince would have gotten his act together considering what happened a few nights ago, but clearly he’s been working on something elaborate without Oikawa catching onto. There’s no way he would’ve thought Hinata was sneaking out to a fighting pit to recruit a bounty hunter. He actually believed the crap about watching fighting to calm down. The little shit.

“He’s getting more and more clever, that Prince,” he ponders aloud. Oikawa stands from his seat, grabbing his wine cup and walking to one of the windows. He sips the drink absentmindedly, staring out at the city below as his thoughts trail endlessly.

Oikawa is fairly certain Hinata is going to win over the Mercenary group somehow. Once he’s got his claws hooked on you, the Prince doesn't let go. Always so persistent, working to make his goals a reality no matter the cost. Some might see it as a good quality, but right now Oikawa thinks it’s his worst. He doesn’t know when to quit. That’s why he’s got someone like Oikawa around in the first place. To ensure he doesn’t do something stupid and get himself killed. This is one of those times where he truly has to put his skills to use. Do whatever it takes to keep the last remaining member of the Royal Family alive.

A drawn-out groan occupies the silence hanging around him. Oikawa’s eyes settle on a building in the distance and is suddenly struck with an idea.

“I need to do what’s best for his Highness,” he mumbles into his cup bitterly, finishing off the last of his wine and making his way to the door.


	4. Clashing

Iwaizumi scowls once he steps foot into the dimly lit building, the smell of incense hitting him instantly. He’s led forward down a small hallway, glaring skeptically at the suspicious entrance. What kind of invitation was this, exactly? He already wasn’t to keen on accepting it, agreeing reluctantly when a guard informed him he would be escorted into the city for a meeting.

The man pauses before a curtained doorway, stepping to the side and gesturing for Iwaizumi to enter. He looks from the guard to the curtain silently, unnerved especially since he has no weapons on hand. After a long sigh, he steps forward, pulling the fabric back with a swift motion. His eyes widen at the sight within; a large open room decorated ornately with various furniture, candles and artwork. It’s filled with young women in various states of undress, from barely any clothes to completely nude and everything in between. Some are occupied with men, chatting and flirting playfully. Along the back wall, a girl leads a stumbling man through a doorway and down another hallway. Ah, the incense and the curtain at the front should have been a dead giveaway, he thinks.

“You made it!” A voice exclaims, drawing his attention near the side of the room.

His gaze shifts to locate it, catching Oikawa lounging on a large couch with a girl on either side of him. One of them is topless, snuggled into the advisor’s side with a hand on his chest.

“You look terrified Iwa-chan!” Oikawa exclaims. One of the girls at his side giggles behind a hand at the nickname. “First time in a brothel?” He asks.

Iwaizumi promptly pivots around, intending on going back to the castle without another word to this prick. Just as he turns, a girl with long dark hair steps forward and lays a hand on his chest gently. She presses close against Iwaizumi, angling her head up to his ear.

“Leaving so soon?” She questions sweetly.

Iwaizumi pulls back uncomfortably, making eye contact for a second and glancing anywhere but her direction. She’s also topless, rather pleased with herself wearing a sultry smile. Before Iwaizumi can get a coherent sentence in, she’s got her slender hands wrapped around his wrist and leads him towards Oikawa. He remains stiff even after she sits him down in a lounger across from Oikawa and settles next to him, running a hand along his arm gently.

He meets Oikawa’s gaze pointedly, noticing the amused glint in the man’s eyes. What Iwaizumi would give to give his delicate face a clean punch. Maybe right to his nose, with the right enough force to-

“What’s your poison, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa asks playfully, sipping from his cup. “I’m personally a wine kind of guy, everything else is so-"

“Call me that again and I’ll break your arm. What exactly did you want to meet me here for?” Iwaizumi interrupts sternly. “If it’s not important I’d rather be back at the castle.”

“Ah, but it is important! Is it so wrong to mix work with a little bit of pleasure?” Oikawa teases, reaching a hand up to brush one of the girl’s bangs away from her face. She leers at Oikawa impishly, leaning into his touch.

Iwaizumi glances anywhere but the scene in front of him. “I prefer to keep the two separate,” he mutters back.

“Isn’t he terrible?” Oikawa asks the girl on his other side, voice hushed but purposefully loud enough for Iwaizumi to hear. “Saying something so rude with such a beautiful girl at his side.”

“Get on with it, Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi warns.

The girl next to him snickers quietly and Oikawa’s eyes widen in surprise, caught off by the insult. He regains himself quickly, turning his head to the side and plastering a cheap smile on his face. “Well ladies, it seems we have a tough guy tonight,” he explains casually. “Why don’t one of you go grab Ser Mercenary a drink so we can loosen him up a bit?”

The girl at Iwaizumi’s side stands before he can protest, walking off behind him somewhere. Oikawa speaks up again, eyes half closed and sizing Iwaizumi up. “I wanted to hear your thoughts about this mission,” he pauses, taking another sip. “Still not in favour?” He asks.

Iwaizumi raises an eyebrow. “Is this something you should be discussing so freely?”

“I appreciate your concern, but you’d be surprised how many secrets are kept in a place like this,” Oikawa replies with a wink.

Iwaizumi crosses his arms over his chest, leaning back into the lounger and off put by the act. “What do you care? You weren't keen on the idea of it either,” he reminds.

“Oh, that’s simply it though!” Oikawa reasons, patting one of the girl’s legs gently. She stands, taking Oikawa’s wine cup and walks away presumably to fill it up. “You see, I want to make sure we’re still on the same page for tomorrow’s meeting.”

Iwaizumi glowers silently, accepting the drink brought to him with a small thanks and taking a sip. It goes down a lot smoother than what he’s used to, even if it is too sweet for his liking. The girl settles back next to him again to his discomfort, but he says nothing of it.

“I figured you invited me here as a bribe to change my mind,” he comments.

“Hm, more like persuade you to keep your decision the same, but the core of the idea is there!” Oikawa replies cheerfully. He turns to whisper to the girl snuggled into his side. Her hand reaches into his pocket and returns with a pouch. She grins at it and then at Iwaizumi, slinking over to his other side. He stiffens as she tucks it into one of his pockets before returning to Oikawa's side.

Iwaizumi thinks it’s impossible for himself _not_ to scowl at this fool. “It’s odd to me you're going against the Prince’s wishes,” he remarks.

Oikawa stares at him blankly a moment. “Well, yes. Of course you’d think that,” he says plainly. “But someone like you is so far removed from any of this, you don’t see my actions for what they are.”

Iwaizumi takes a hearty gulp of wine as a means of preventing himself from standing up and physically shutting this guy up. “Please, enlighten a simple-minded man such as myself,” he requests dryly, voice devoid of any emotion.

“Gladly!” Oikawa chirps, reaching for the wine cup held out to him. Iwaizumi pictures himself throwing his drink at the man. It’s doesn’t solve anything, but it’s a nice mental image nonetheless. “You see, my little, dumb Prince is just that. He’s dumb,” Oikawa criticizes. “The poor kid struggled to ride a horse till he was fourteen. Isn't that something? He’s got a charm people love, I’ll give him that. There aren’t many who meet the Prince and dislike him.”

Oikawa sighs dramatically. “Despite this, he’s pretty much useless on his own. It’s why he has bright people like me to guide him and steer his actions in the right direction.”

When the man is finished speaking, Iwaizumi turns to glance down the girl at his side. She's surprised he’s actually paying attention to her all of a sudden. “Did you get anything out of that?” He asks lowly, before returning his gaze to Oikawa, mimicking his earlier actions and speaking loud enough for the man to hear. “’Cause all I heard was he’s disloyal scum.”

Outrage enters Oikawa’s eyes instantaneously and doesn’t go unnoticed, or the way his hand on one of the women tightens so harsh she gasps in pain. He corrects himself immediately, plastering on a smile Iwaizumi sees right through while the advisor apologizes to the girl.

“I live to serve his Highness. Nothing about my actions are disloyal,” Oikawa insists, voice tight with a heinous smile still on his lips.

“I wondered why you were so taken back as the Prince was explaining his plan,” Iwaizumi recalls. “But I think I get it now.”

“Oh?” Oikawa asks, not backing down. He’s getting worked up, the way annoyance seeps in his tone. “What’s there to get exactly, Ser Mercenary?”

He doesn’t fall for the bait of the insult this time, though it’s tempting. Falling for it means giving Oikawa some sort of satisfaction. “He never told you a single thing about it, did he?” Iwaizumi asks, sipping from the cup.

He catches a slight twitch in Oikawa’s eyebrow. “Of course he did,” he protests, turning his chin up and looking to the side. “I’m his right-hand man after all.”

“And the last right-hand man made quite the impression on the Royal Family, didn’t he?” Iwaizumi counters. "I can see why the Prince would be wary about sharing his secrets."

Oikawa sits up straight, spilling some of his drink with the abrupt movement. The girls on either side of him stare at each other unsurely. "How dare you compare me to swine like him," he hisses, fury in his eyes. "I should have you thrown in-"

"We're done here," Iwaizumi interrupts, standing and downing the rest of his wine. He reaches into his pocket, grabs the pouch of gold and tosses it gently to the girl he was sitting next to. "For your trouble. I'm sorry you have to be around this guy all night," he offers, setting his drink down on a tables he passes by as he starts walking to the exit.

“You’d be stupid to not take the gold and give me your word!” Oikawa yells from behind him.

Iwaizumi glances over his shoulder, glaring at Oikawa. “It isn’t always about the gold,” he retorts, pulling back the curtain and exiting the building, guard in tow.

* * *

“Not always about the gold, huh?” Oikawa echoes, leaning back into the couch with a sigh. He really didn’t expect it to go so poorly. Or rather, for him to lose his cool.

The girl at his side snuggles back into his arm. “What a strange philosophy for a mercenary to live by,” she coos.

“You’re telling me,” Oikawa replies, sipping his wine and wishing he was much drunker than he is.

* * *

Kuroo stands still in a large section of open grass in the dark, hands held out in front of himself loosely. He takes a few deep breaths, concentrating on the motion. Paying attention to the air passing through to his lungs and expelling out. Keeping himself focused solely on the motions, over and over until his mind is unhinged from distraction.

He flexes his fingers and channels magic towards the tips. A charge passes through the small space between his hands and when he opens his eyes, a ball of black magic is nestled there. Kuroo grins, pulling his hands apart experimentally and watching the shape stretch with the movement. Overlapping his hands in several directions, he malleates the magic into a different shape. Three small knives float in front of him and with a quick flick of his wrists, they are shot out cleanly into the ground, sticking into the dirt and fizzling away after a few seconds.

Kuroo smirks, conjuring up a bigger source of magic. This time he transforms it into a javelin, hurling it cleanly in front of himself. It nearly goes through a hedge about fifty feet away, managing to get caught in the shrubbery.

Feeling confident, the dark mage places his arms outstretched in front of himself once again, but this time with his forearms turned upwards. He thinks back to the lines of the text in the tome he’s engrossed himself in lately, reciting the words in his head. Black tendrils start spreading upwards from his hands slowly, growing larger and larger. If he can manipulate his magic in the exact way the pages described, he should be able to-

“I would prefer if you didn’t destroy the gardens with your dark magic,” a quiet voice addresses from behind. Concentration breaking instantly, Kuroo jerks around as the black magic dissipates into thin air. Ah, Prince Hinata’s friend, Kenma. Standing a distance away, the timid-looking brunet from the meeting earlier has his gaze to the side with his hands folded in the sleeves of his loose grey robes. His hair is tied into a loose knot, revealing more of his features. A soft, round face and overall mildness to his structure. The one thing that really stands out to Kuroo are his eyes. They're both cunning and judging, seemingly attempting to pick Kuroo apart.

“What’s a disfigured hedge or two in the grand scheme of things, ya know?” Kuroo asks lightly. He notices a frown work its way onto Kenma’s face.

“You shouldn’t be out here on your own,” Kenma scolds passively. “The guards wouldn’t be impressed if they saw you like this.”

“So you’re impressed then?” Kuroo taunts back. The frown on Kenma’s face grows and the dark mage grins impishly, nodding to the side. Kenma’s cat-like eyes trail over to Bokuto, stretched out on the grass and snoozing peacefully, clad in armour and all. “And I’m not exactly on my own.”

A soft sigh escapes Kenma’s lips and Kuroo snickers. When the shorter man’s eyes return to him and linger, the dark mage resists the urge to cross his arms over himself. Something about those eyes feels like he’s being studied under a lens; It’s strange to Kuroo that such a fragile man has the ability to impose such an ominous feeling.

After what starts to feel like too long of a silence, Kuroo breaks it. “I have to say, you’re intriguing,” he states bluntly.

Kenma’s eyes grow larger, fixating to the ground. “Hardly accurate,” he denies.

A loud laugh bursts from Kuroo. Bokuto doesn’t stir in the slightest. He must really be worn out from the travels earlier. “That’s a joke right?” Kuroo asks, smile falling once Kenma’s eyes are upon him again, back to their steely demeanor. “Huh, you’re serious.”

“I fail to see what’s so intriguing about me,” Kenma replies.

“Come on now,” Kuroo eases with a wave of his hand. “Modesty is so boring. It must have taken a skilled mind to track our little group down.”

One of Kenma’s thin eyebrows arches, interested by Kuroo’s comment.

“And just in a matter of days too?” Kuroo emphasizes. “Of course, I’m assuming your search began once the Prince ran into Kageyama at the fighting pit. Kind of an odd place for him to be, hm?”

“You talk a lot,” Kenma points out.

Kuroo shrugs a shoulder. “Am I right then?” He asks.

He gets a small thrill out of watching Kenma’s head nod slightly. Kuroo stretches his arms high over his head, letting out a satisfied sigh at the pop in his shoulders. “Thought so. I spent a lot of time thinking the Prince must be pretty sharp to have found us so easily. Turns out he’s got a brilliant mind doing all the work for him,” he praises.

For the first time since he’s laid eyes on the Lord, his tone becomes defensive. “Shouyou was solely responsible for creating this plan. I simply carried out the actions to fulfil it.”

Kuroo blinks in surprise. “I meant no disrespect,” he revises. Kenma turns around, beginning to walk back towards the castle.

“Perhaps you should wake Bokuto and have him escort you to your quarters. It’s getting late,” Kenma suggests, back to Kuroo as he walks away. Kuroo keeps his eyes trained on him until he’s out of sight.

“Definitely intriguing,” he murmurs.

“Hm- something going on?” Bokuto mutters groggily, finally waking and sitting up with a loud yawn. Kuroo gives him an amused grin and shakes his head.

* * *

Hinata smooths out the front of his jacket and lifts a hand to rap on the closed door in front of himself, waiting for a response. The click of the door hits his ears and he smiles up brightly at Kageyama, who has his hand resting on the handle and appears rather skeptical judging by his narrowed eyes and frown.

“Good evening, Kageyama,” Hinata greets. The mercenary gives him a weak nod. “I wondered if you’d like to come on a walk with me,” Hinata proposes.

Kageyama stares at him, expression unchanging. “No,” he denies, swinging the door to shut it abruptly.

Hinata plants his hands on the wood before it closes and pushes hard. “Wait! Why not, you’re not doing anything!”

“Prince Hinata?” Asahi asks, standing not far behind and probably wondering if this is where he should intervene or not.

Hinata grunts. “It’s fine-“ he protests, letting out another sound as he braces his weight by digging his heels into the ground. No way he’s losing to this jerk.

“What do you want to walk around for anyway!?” Kageyama bites back, not letting up on his pressure against the door either.

“I want to talk!” Hinata insists. “And you have no choice since you’re in my home, so stop with this-woah!” He stumbles forward when Kageyama pulls back abruptly, nearly falling face first into the guest room.

“Talk about what?” Kageyama murmurs quietly. “If you’re here to try and butter me up about the mission-“

“No, nothing like that!” Hinata says, rebalancing himself, standing up straight and grinning with a thumbs up. “You’ll find out as we walk. Now come on!” He emphasises, turning around on his heel and striding down the large hallway of the guest wing. It takes a couple seconds, but he hears the door shutting and footsteps catching up to him, smiling victoriously. He waits until they’re outside and walking a path looping around the castle.

“I’ve been wondering, why’d you join the fighting tournament in the first place?” Hinata muses. “After seeing you, I figured you’d have lots of people wanting to hire you for work.”

Kageyama’s lips press together and his gaze shifts away uncomfortably. “I-we’re selective about the kinds of jobs we take,” he says.

Hinata nods, staring at the ground in front of them. “How so? No high-profile clients?” He jests.

Kageyama rolls his eyes. “Not like that.”

The Prince leans forward a bit as he walks, enough to catch Kageyama’s expression which could be described as a blend of timid and miffed. “So what is it then?” He probes.

Hinata thinks he’s going to elaborate, but Kageyama looks pointedly in the opposite direction. “Tch. It’s none of your business.”

“A secret, hm?” Hinata asks with a finger held up to his lips and a cheerful smile. Kageyama shrugs his shoulders.

He tries not to sigh. What’s this guy’s deal anyway? He sure is a brooder. A lull comes between them, stretching into minutes as they continue to walk around the castle. Kageyama finally speaks up and Hinata flinches in surprise, having been stuck in his head with his own thoughts.

“Is that all you wanted to talk about?” He asks.

Hinata stares in front of them, a small smile tugging on his lips. “Well, there is one more thing.”

He doesn’t continue and Kageyama glares down at him. “Get on with it!” He orders. Asahi coughs from behind them and Hinata waves the knight off.

“Don’t be so impatient! It’ll make sense when we’re up ahead anyway,” the Prince explains. Kageyama keeps a steely glare on him, eventually huffing and turning his head away. Hinata supposes it’s his nonverbal way of accepting the decision.

Hinata rears off the path and towards the castle all of a sudden. Asahi gives a sound of protest. “Prince Hinata… it’s a little late for this.”

“It’s fine Asahi, you can sit out the entire time, no sweat!” Hinata assures, walking onto the stone platform and towards the underpass of the outdoor balcony. He stops in front of the weapons rack, removing two wooden swords. He turns around and the other two stand close by, Asahi releasing a big exhale and Kageyama eyeing the training weapons up interestedly.

“I want to spar with you,” Hinata beams, holding a sword out to Kageyama.

That sour expression comes to his face again, like Kageyama bit down on something bitter. “Why me?”

The Prince’s expression softens. “Huh? Cause you’re strong,” he returns, like it should be obvious. “Watching you fight was like, ‘Wha-bam!’ and ‘boom’!”

“’Wha-bam’ and ‘boom’?” Kageyama repeats doubtfully, his skepticism appearing to grow.

Hinata nods. “Yea! I wanna see it up close in action!” He says.

Kageyama gives Asahi a glance, to which his knight shrugs. The mercenary’s shoulders fall with the exhale passing through his nose. “Fine,” Kageyama accepts, reaching for the sword and turning to walk into the center of the training grounds. “But if you think I’m going to go easy on you because you’re a Prince, you’re dead wrong.”

Hinata isn’t far behind, an enthusiastic bounce in his step. “I wouldn’t have it any other way!”

***

Those words may have been spoken without fully understanding their merit. Less than an hour later, Hinata lays on his back, panting fiercely and trying to recapture his breath while staring up at the stars. From next to him, he hears Kageyama attempting to do the same and rolls his head to the side to get a look. He’s resting his hands on his knees with his head bowed low, hair covering his face.

“I see why you’re called the King. For real now,” Hinata says, sitting up and wincing at the soreness in his side.

Kageyama glimpses up. “You of all people shouldn’t call me that.”

“Hah! It doesn’t bug me, if that’s what you think,” Hinata explains, rising to his feet. “It’s not like I’m a King yet anyway. If you were called the Prince of Combat, maybe I’d feel different!”

Kageyama rolls his eyes, muttering low enough Hinata barely catches it. “Idiot.”

“Let’s go, another round you jerk!” The Prince shouts, picking his sword up.

Kageyama stares disbelievingly, but doesn’t back down, grabbing his own and readying himself.

* * *

Kenma is barely registering he’s awake, trailing down the hallway out of pure muscle memory rather than by will. His eyes are practically closed, feeling heavier than they should. Early mornings are terrible enough on their own, but Kenma is even less thrilled about attending this meeting. Considering how yesterdays went, the idea of how todays is going to go is not only dreadful, but also unknown to him.

Approaching Shouyou’s door, Kenma knocks lightly and peers at the ground as he waits. Shock overtakes his features when Shouyou opens the door and Kenma’s eyes are instantly drawn to the bruises and bumps littered all over him. The Prince is still in his night attire unsurprisingly; a short-sleeved shirt and plain pants. The marks stretch all along his arms and up to his face.

“Morning Kenma!” The Prince greets, retreating back into his room. Kenma shuffles forward into the room and closes the door gently, folding his arms in front of himself into the sleeves of his robe.

“Shouyou,” the brunet starts. “You’re covered in bruises.”

The Prince is in the process of removing his shirt, giving Kenma a glimpse of a few more on his back. Kenma walks towards his closet, picking out an outfit for the Prince and bringing it to him. “Huh?” Shouyou asks, stepping in front of his full-length mirror to observe himself. He takes in the bruises with an almost satisfied smile. “Oh, well I was training late last night.”

Kenma gives him a clean undershirt and lays the rest of the outfit on his bed. “With a bear?” He quips back, an eyebrow arched.

Shouyou snickers, pulling his head through the hole of the shirt. “He sure fights like one, but nope! With Kageyama!"

The tip of Kenma’s tongue drags against the roof of his mouth before he continues. “And how did that go?” He asks.

A look crosses through Shouyou’s eyes that the average person might not have caught. Ever the alert one, Kenma notices and stores it in the back of his head.

“It was awesome!” The Prince explains, working over changing into the rest of his outfit. Kenma averts his gaze politely, knowing Shouyou has no care for modesty. “He’s a real bastard at times, but I can’t deny how strong he is. Even though he beat me every round, I learned so much from him! You should have seen this one move, where he-”

Kenma remains silent, blocking the idle chatter out and sitting on the edge of Shouyou’s bed. It’s not weird for the Prince to praise others, yet something about his words, or rather the way he says them, alludes to something…more than admiration. Kenma mulls over the it, gesturing for Shouyou to come forward so he can heal Shouyou’s face with his magic. He thinks about it all the way up until they’re walking towards the council room.

* * *

Sugawara considers himself good with people. He's got a natural intuition for reading others and possesses a lot of empathy. Though, sitting in the councillor’s room while they wait for Prince Hinata to arrive is truly testing his resolve. It’s hard to stay resolute with the blatant tension between Iwaizumi and Hinata’s advisor suspended around the whole room. As soon as they stepped foot into it and Iwaizumi saw Oikawa was the only one sitting at the table, a shift in his leader's demeanor became very apparent. Iwaizumi stayed quiet as Oikawa called out a chipper greeting to the group, simply walking to the opposite end of the table and taking a seat. Akaashi replied politely for him and the advisor did not seem to pleased about it, judging by the way he leaned back in his seat with his chin tipped up and away.

It’s been uncomfortably silent since then. Sugawara keeps catching the brazen glare his boss has locked on Oikawa when he peeks at them now and then. Daichi and himself have been sharing curious glances too, trying to figure out if it’s something worth speaking of. Kuroo is either completely oblivious to it or good at pretending like nothing is going on, staring thoughtfully out one of the windows. Akaashi sits sandwiched between the dark mage and Bokuto, also looking unbothered.

Yes, Sugawara is like their mediator. The one to approach issues in a calm manner, with the goal of reaching some kind of resolution. But right here in this moment, he has absolutely no desire to play the role.

To his luck and relief, Akaashi speaks up. “Lord Oikawa, since we are waiting, I wonder if you can answer a question.”

The advisor’s eyes trail towards the sniper, tapping his hand against the table slowly. “I’m sure I can, though I don’t know if I will.”

Sugawara’s eyes move to the sound of shifting, seeing Iwaizumi cross his arms over his chest and leaning back in his chair.

Akaashi remains neutral, continuing. “The King’s assassination is being kept a secret, is it not? I thought it was strange we heard no news of it travelling in the city.”

Surprisingly, Oikawa obliges. “Yes, news of his death has been contained. However, it’s only a matter of time before the public finds out. You can only use sickness as an excuse so many times until it goes noticed.”

Akaashi nods. “You want to deal with this quietly so people do not learn it was an internal assassination,” he observes.

“Hm, you really are the black sheep in the group, aren’t you?” Oikawa muses. “Reserved, polite…” he pauses, eyes drifting to Iwaizumi and smiling sweetly. “Intelligent too.”

The door swings open as Iwaizumi’s lips part and again, Sugawara is thankful to whatever deity is out there, because he was about two seconds away from having to forcibly restrain his boss from attacking Oikawa. Hinata trails in, perky as ever though it’s still early, with Kenma and Asahi in tow.

“Good morning everyone!” The Prince offers, striding towards his seat. “I hope you all weren’t waiting long.”

“Not at all, Your Highness,” Oikawa says, standing to pull out Hinata’s chair for him. He smirks at Iwaizumi, pushing it back in after the Prince takes a seat. “Isn’t that right?” He asks.

“That’s right,” Iwaizumi echoes, though it’s forced.

Hinata appears to be oblivious to the tone, clapping his hands together. “Wonderful! Let us begin then,” he introduces. “I trust you’ve made a decision, Iwaizumi-san?”

“Just Iwaizumi is fine, Hinata,” the mercenary replies. His voice is a lot less hostile. “And yes, we have. But before I give it, I need to know a few things.”

The Prince blinks. “Sure. I’ll answer what I can,” he says easily with a shrug. Sugawara tries not to smile. The Prince and his advisor seem like opposites right now.

“These fugitives- they’re not ordinary men if they were working internally. Who are they and what was their motive?”

“Hm, I don’t know them well, but my Father did,” Hinata says, bringing a hand to his mouth and staring at the table. “Two are minor Lords from the area and the third is a wealthy merchant. He’s originally from the east, but came to the Kingdom over ten years ago. As for the motive…” Hinata pauses, his teeth catching his lip.

“It is normal for a King to have enemies just as any man,” Oikawa contributes. “In fact, he’s likely to have much more than anyone in the land. For a multitude of reasons: power, land, money-“

“So in other words, you don’t know,” Kuroo fills in.

Oikawa frowns at the dark mage, while Kenma speaks. “No, we do not have a clear motive at this point. With the capture of the fugitives, we have better luck discovering it.”

“Or you haven’t been using the right interrogation techniques on your prisoner,” Kuroo replies with a sly grin. “Shouldn’t he have given you that information?”

“It was trouble enough getting what we do know,” Kenma quips back. “Wasting more time on him would be pointless.”

“We’re losing sight here,” Sugawara jumps in. He nods towards Iwaizumi, who sighs and resets himself.

“Right,” Iwaizumi says. The mercenary holds eye contact with the Prince. “Are we going to have complete control over how we conduct the mission?”

“Of course,” Hinata replies. “I trust you have your own ways of doing things. Ah, but I want Bokuto to join the search as well. You may assign him to either location, depending on your liking.”

“What? I get to go too, Your Highness!?” Bokuto asks excitedly.

Hinata meets the enthusiasm head on with a cheeky smile. “Of course! You didn’t think the top secret mission was just delivering a boring message, right?”

Sugawara thinks Bokuto is very…passionate for someone who dedicated themselves to knighthood. Especially since he has a hand placed to his chest plate, standing and giving the Prince an awe-struck gaze. “I won’t let you down!” He insists.

“Bokuto, please be seated,” Kenma requests, his voice a pin drop compared to the boom of Bokuto’s. The knight obliges with a huge smile ever present on his face.

Hinata works to compose himself against, brushing off his jacket and taking a breath. “Any other questions?”

Iwaizumi shakes his head. “No.”

Oikawa quips in, voice curious yet taunting at the same time. “Oh?” He starts. “No questions about payment?”

Sugawara has to believe something happened between these two, simply going off the fact that Iwaizumi has his militant face on.

“I’m sure they recognize they will be well rewarded,” Kenma appeases, giving the advisor a warning look.

Iwaizumi takes a breath. All eyes seem to draw in on him, waiting for the answer.

“We’ll take the job.”


	5. Prep and Depart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoy my loves!!!

Iwaizumi’s plan details as below:

The group will split in two to capture the fugitives. Naturally, this saves time rather than travelling as a whole. He groups Kageyama, Sugawara, Akaashi and Bokuto to go north. Seeing as they have two fugitives to capture and Kageyama is the most experienced with bounty hunting, he is better suited to the group. Akaashi also knows the land well since he lived up north so long, proving useful to travel with. Sugawara is sent considering theirs is a more dangerous mission, so Iwaizumi figures the healer's abilities are better suited in this group. Plus, for all his skill, Kageyama tends to act recklessly and get hurt. Bokuto seems to be a strong fighter too, thankfully. Iwaizumi instructs him not to wear his regular armour during travel, lest the sun crest give them away.

That leaves Kuroo, Daichi and himself to travel east. Daichi grew up in a small town within a few hour’s distance of where their target has been said to have fled to. There’s also a possibility of the merchant residing on a small island off the coast according to their intel from Lord Oikawa and Lord Kozume. Daichi knows how to sail, making him an asset to capturing the merchant. Both himself and Kuroo know the area well too, having travelled in the east to work for various groups years ago.

The north group should take about eight days to reach their destination. Kageyama estimates capturing the fugitives shouldn’t take more than four, assuming all goes smoothly.

The east group should take four days to reach their destination, perhaps an extra if they need to travel to the island. The fugitive shouldn’t take more than a day or two to capture, considering his whereabouts are in smaller areas. Kenma has agreed to supply them with enough provisions to pay for a ride to the island if necessary.

The fugitives are to be kept alive, but taken with force if necessary. Iwaizumi is certain it will be.

* * *

The sound of metal on metal is sort of therapeutic to Nishinoya. Something about continuous beating in the midst of silence puts him into a quiet state of mind, where thoughts come and go but are never paid much attention to. His focus is driven towards the sound, the steady _tick, tick, tick_ acting as a sort of hypnotic guidance. All that matters in these moments is the act of him maintaining focus with each swing of his hammer, striking the glowing steel in the most precise motions. His eyes take in every change of shape between swings, adjusting his pressure or direction. He has to be both quick and proper, leaving no room for hesitation or second guessing. It’s challenging, but to Nishinoya, it's also what makes it all the more enticing.

You might think someone as energetic and short-focused as himself would find no pleasure in the crafting of swords and other weapons. While he’s not the epitome of calmness, Nishinoya thrives on the amount of patience it takes to create every one of his weapons. He loves being able to examine his duplicates with fine detail and determine where he’s made errors or improvements in his work. Though he’s well-respected for his craft, Nishinoya is always looking towards getting better and better as time passes on.

It wouldn’t make sense if he tried to explain it (which he _has-_ and always earns a quizzical stare in response), but to Nishinoya it's clear. The ticking of metal allows him to reach a state of concentration, so focused-

The door behind him barrels open. “Noya-san! I-“

“Ryuu!” Nishinoya barks back, nearly fumbling the hammer from his hands. He turns around to face the man, pointing the tool at him threateningly. “How many times have I told you not to interrupt me while I’m working!?”

“Sorry boss!” Ryuu chirps back, unphased by the obvious frustration radiating off of Nishinoya. “But I needed to let you know I’m heading out to pick up a supply of ore!”

Nishinoya glares for about two seconds longer before sighing and waving a hand to Tanaka. “Sure, sure. Don’t get distracted visiting that florist again, ya hear!?” He orders, waving the hammer.

“Really ought to get going. See ya later!” Tanaka chirps back obliviously, closing the door and whistling as he walks off.

Nishinoya can’t help a chuckle, walking to the bellows and shooting more air out into the embers to heat the steel up. He’ll have to get it back to proper temperature so he can continue sculpting out the sword. It takes time to get hot enough and even longer for Nishinoya’s concentration to return, but eventually the swordsmith is able to resume work with a peace of mind.

For about ten minutes until he’s jolted up at the sound of knocking on the door. Nishinoya growls at the sword, throwing the hammer down on the iron work table loudly.

“Ryuu I swear, I’m gonna kick your-“ but he pauses and turns around to stare at the door. Knocking? That isn’t something Tanaka would normally do. Nishinoya doesn’t think he’s _ever_ knocked before entering a room, the damned punk.

Nishinoya removes his gloves and sets them down nearby, approaching the door and opening it to reveal Asahi standing behind it with a sheepish smile on his face.

“Asahi!” The swordsmith exclaims, anger pulled out of him like a carpet from beneath his feet in a fell swoop.

The knight nods politely. “Nishinoya, I apologize. I know you don’t like guests when you’re working,” he explains a little nervously. It’s funny to Nishinoya, considering Asahi is almost twice his size and shouldn’t be intimidated at all in retrospect. Ever the gentle giant, he supposes.

Nishinoya crosses his arms. “Ah, I’ll make an exception this one time just for you,” he replies with a lopsided grin. “Now, what’s up?”

A faint flush takes Asahi’s face, clearing his throat. “Yes, thank you,” he mumbles. Seriously, sometimes this guy acts like anything but a knight with the way he gets. “I’m here on a bit of an odd request from his Highness,” he says.

Nishinoya’s attention is now caught. “Oh?” He replies with a tilt of his head. “What could our Prince want now? A new longsword, perhaps?” He replies with a sly grin. “A katana? How ‘bout some throwing knives or-“

“Uhm, nothing like that,” the knight eases, rubbing a hand behind his head. He steps into the room, closing the door behind him softly. Nishinoya raises his eyebrows in surprise at the gesture, but listens attentively to Asahi. “You see…”

And the next few minutes are occupied with Asahi filling in the general story to Nishinoya. Of course, he isn’t told the details of the assassination or why the men are being persecuted, but as soon as the swordsmith hears the words “mercenary group”, "secret mission" and “needing new weapons”, he’s just about bouncing off the walls in excitement.

“Mercenaries? Here in the castle!?” Nishinoya bursts out. “So cool!”

Asahi seems a bit reluctant to agree. “Sure? They should be here shortly. I trust you’ll be able to set them up?”

Nishinoya points a thumb at himself, standing tall and proud. “Well, of course! What kind of weapons master would I be if I couldn’t!?”

Asahi chuckles, waving his arms in surrender. “I didn’t mean to question your ability-“

“Hey Asahi, come check out this sword I finished the other day!” Nishinoya interrupts, mind already off in a different direction as he grabs the knight’s wrist and pulls him further into the room. “I think you’ll like it!”

He brings Asahi to one of the wooden tables lined against a wall, stopping to slide his fingers under the blade of a silver sword. Nishinoya holds the blade gently while Asahi’s eyes are locked onto it, clearly impressed.

“Nishinoya, it’s beautiful.”

“Hah!” The swordsmith laughs, holding it out for Asahi to take. “I think you’re the only person to compliment my work like that.”

The knight picks the sword up by the hilt slowly, adjusting his grip and turning to the side to hold it out. He gives an experimental swing and looks at Nishinoya with an impressed expression.

“It’s true though. It takes a high level of skill and creativity to create this,” he praises, studying the sword again and slicing a clean cut through the air. “Not to mention countless hours.”

“Only for it to inevitably be used to stab through some guy’s insides,” Nishinoya adds with a fondness in his voice, nodding to himself.

“Nishinoya!” Asahi protests.

The swordsmith laughs, taking the sword back and setting it down. “Asahi, you’re a strange guy, you know?”

The knight seems to be unsure as to how to respond, eyes shifting to the side. “Uh, I guess?”

“But it’s what I like about you!” Nishinoya adds, flashing him a smile.

A timid smile comes to Asahi’s face. “It’s funny, I think the same of you,” he admits. Another flush has appeared on his face.

Nishinoya suddenly has the urge to come a little bit closer to Asahi. Maybe tell him a few other things he likes about the knight, so he can get more of a reaction out of him. Sure, it’s a little cruel, but Nishinoya takes pleasure out of the fact that he can make Asahi flush simply by saying something nice.

However, the time for sentiments aren’t a luxury for Nishinoya and Asahi at the moment. A crash sounds from somewhere behind the door, followed by voices shouting in panic.

Asahi’s shoulders drop. “Ah, I think it's them, we should go see,” he says, staring in the direction of the closed door. Though after he speaks, the knight doesn’t take a step forward, instead returning his gaze to meet Nishinoya’s.

“Or we could stay here a little longer,” the swordsmith says off instinct.

Asahi blinks, eyes wide as the full moon and full of something akin to fear. “What?” He stammers. His face is all but a ripe tomato. Nishinoya feels a bit bad, wondering if he somehow broke Asahi by uttering the words judging by the way he goes still. Maybe he jumped too far ahead oh himself.

So he bounces up on the balls of his feet, smacking the knight’s chest plate with a thump and an interim smile. “You’re easy to fluster. Come on, let’s go meet these mercenaries!” He exclaims, turning and walking towards the door without looking back at Asahi. He knows the pit in his stomach will grow further if he does.

* * *

Yamaguchi hums to himself as he drags his brush across the steed’s side, watching the shedding hair gather in bundles before toppling off in clumps. Ah, spring time is always full of days like this; the horses lose their old coats, shedding so much hair you could make clothes of it. Yamaguchi doesn’t mind it for the most part, except for the odd unavoidable stray hair which gets in his eyes or mouth somehow. Today hasn’t been so bad, and this is the last horse he has to groom.

When he’s all finished (and just in time, because the horse is almost finished the hay bail attached to the wall in front of him- and he needs the distraction or he’ll trot away from the grooming), Yamaguchi cleans the excess hair and exits the stall, latching it closed behind him. He gives a big stretch of his arms over his head and a sigh while he grabs a training harness, throwing in over his shoulder and approaching another stall nearby.

Ah, the new thoroughbred. He’s gorgeous, but has a hot temper. Not surprising, but still something Yamaguchi is astute to. He unlatches the stall slowly, smiling at the sight of the steed. He’s truly a giant, not only tall but also muscular. His all-black coat seems to hide it, until he’s out in the sunlight and the contours of his muscles really show. Truly a magnificent beast. The animal pauses in his munching of hay to peer at Yamaguchi cautiously. It takes a long time, but Yamaguchi stays still until the steed lowers his head back to the ground.

“I brought you something Atticus,” Yamaguchi singsongs quietly, approaching closer.

The steed eyes him wearily again, but returns to eating much quicker this time even as Yamaguchi stops within reaching distance. He slowly removes an apple, holding it out. The horse’s attention is caught as Yamaguchi brings it slowly towards his face. Nostrils flaring, the steed smells experimentally and takes a bite. Yamaguchi pats his head gently and pulls the apple away before it’s devoured in a single bite.

“Alright, you let me put this on and the rest is yours, okay?” Yamaguchi asks, laughing a bit as Atticus tries to go for the apple again. His grabs the harness with his free hand, sliding it over his face and securing it over his head nimbly. He holds the rest of the apple to him and the horse snorts, chomping it down in one more bite.

“You’re really a big softie, aren’t you?” Yamaguchi asks, patting his head gently. He grabs the rope dangling from the face harness and begins to lead Atticus out of the stall slowly. The steed follows behind, only shaking his head in discomfort once or twice. They exit the barn and are greeted with the early afternoon sun.

Yamaguchi inhales deeply, before releasing the air. Atticus’ hooves click against the stone ground they trail along. “A great day for some training. We’ll take it nice and easy today,” he assures the horse. “We'll walk and around and get used to the courtyards, and- ah!” He stops, gripping the rope tightly with both hands. Up ahead near some hedges in the courtyard he sees two people standing and talking together.

It isn’t the fact that there’s people; it’s more due to _who_ it is. And it isn’t Lord Kozume who surprises him, rather Tsukishima, standing close and listening attentively to what the Lord is saying. The height difference is almost enough to make him giggle, if he weren’t so caught off guard. Tsukishima? Here at the castle? He wants to rub his eyes. Is it really him? He doesn’t think he’d forget the man who saved him from one hell of a beating. Plus, the height is a big indicator.

Atticus snorts and Yamaguchi breaks himself of the shock, gulping and continuing to walk along the stone path with his head low. He wants to keep observing, but it’s a little challenging to be inconspicuous with a two-hundred-pound animal walking alongside him. Plus, it’s not like he can go over there and say anything. Though he’s certain it wouldn’t result in trouble, it would be incredibly disrespectful to Lord Kozume to impose himself.

So, Yamaguchi strolls along the path with Atticus, resisting the urge to sneak a peak while walking by them. He knows he shouldn’t, but the curiosity is already nagging at his head and encouraging him to make it quick, so it’s not noticeable. So, his head raises to glance just for a second, but it turns into a few when he notices Tsukishima’s gaze locked on him as their eyes meet. Yep. That’s him alright. Yamaguchi wouldn’t forget if he tried.

Tentatively, his eyes lower and he continues to walk with Atticus. He wants to say he’s not distracted now, but it would be a blatant lie.

“Yamaguchi.”

Stopping and turning around upon hearing his name, Yamaguchi’s eyes widen and a small sound escapes him. “Yes!” He answers immediately, staring at Tsukishima. In broad daylight like this, he realizes how pale his skin is. It looks perfect- not a single blemish or freckle upon his ivory skin. Completely the opposite of Yamaguchi's tan and the countless freckles on his body.

One of his eyebrows arches smoothly, causing Yamaguchi to amend himself. “I mean- hi Tsukishima!”

“Your eye is better,” the blond man comments quietly.

Yamaguchi nods, pressing his hand to the healed spot. “Yea, I’m lucky to be in a place with so many healers. It got fixed up the next day, actually,” he explains.

Tsukishima’s expression remains passive. “So, um, what are you doing here?” Yamaguchi asks.

“As if it’s your business,” Tsukishima answers.

Yamaguchi brings his free hand behind his head, rubbing his hair sheepishly. “Right! Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. I’ve never seen you here is all,” he says. His attention is drawn to Atticus when the horse shakes his head frustratedly.

“It’s okay. Come on, you're good,” Yamaguchi eases warmly, turning the horse around to face Tsukishima. He catches the way the blond man’s shoulders stiffen and his eyes seem to sharpen.

“This is Atticus,” Yamaguchi introduces proudly. “Our newest horse.”

“More like a behemoth,” Tsukishima mutters. Even someone as tall as him has to raise his head at the horse.

Atticus shakes his head and gives a whine of protest. Yamaguchi purses his lips, giving the blond man a pointed look. “Don’t be mean to him!” He defends instinctively.

Tsukishima’s eyes narrow. “He’s a horse, Yamaguchi. He doesn’t know an insult from a compliment.”

Yamaguchi shakes his head, whispering to Atticus and working to calm him down. “It’s the way you say it. He can tell,” he insists.

Tsukishima rolls his eyes, but he attempts again. “Nice to meet you, giant horse,” he offers, voice carrying no influx.

The brunet laughs. “Still not the best, but better,” Yamaguchi says, turning to the horse with a smile. “Don’t worry Atticus, Tsukki is a little guarded like-“ he stops with his lips still parted, giving a horrified glance to Tsukishima. What the _hell_ was that!? Did he seriously say-

“Like who?” Tsukishima asks, crossing his arms in front of himself. There’s annoyance in his tone, but his eyes aren't as mean as normal. Maybe a little amused.

“Sorry Tsukki, I didn’t mean- ah! I did it again!” He cries out in embarrassment, face heating up.

Tsukishima rolls his eyes, dropping his arms. “Shut up Yamaguchi,” he comments quietly.

“Right!” Yamaguchi answers tightly, grateful for the mercy kill. “Well uh, it was great seeing you Tsukki - _shima_!” He annunciates. “But we really ought to get going now! You know, things to do, horses to train,” he rambles nervously, hands wringing the rope as he turns around to continue his walk with Atticus, head low and knowing his entire face is bright red. "Until next time!"

He misses the charming smirk resting on Tsukishima’s face while he watches Yamaguchi walk away.

* * *

Daichi likes to think of himself as sturdy; a sort of safe haven, remaining unbothered in the face of chaos that inevitably comes crashing in at times to throw things into disorder. He has a steadfast ability to keep calm and collected during uncertainty. He may not be as quick-witted as Kuroo or as experienced of a fighter as Kageyama or Iwaizumi, but his ability to keep himself grounded and not succumb to pressure leaves something to be admired amongst their group.

Though right now, sturdy isn’t a word he would use to describe how he’s feeling. His steps towards Sugawara’s guest room are heavy, each rise of his foot seemingly carrying ten pounds of iron. Daichi doesn’t recognize he’s knocking on the door and turning the handle until he’s watching Sugawara’s head turn towards the door opening. Upon sight, Sugawara smiles, the simple action lifting some of the weight and beckoning Daichi’s legs towards the bed he’s sitting on.

“Everything alright?” Daichi asks. It’s a formality if anything, considering the way he’s sitting on the edge of the bed with his eyes trained on a window. 

Sugawara’s eyes trail to the ceiling before settling on Daichi’s. “Mostly,” he answers.

Reaching a hand out, Daichi presses it gently to the side of Sugawara’s face. “Nervous about the mission?” He guesses.

He sees the thoughts processing in Sugawara’s eyes, knowing there’s more to his answer once he speaks. “Yea. Feels like the old days a bit.”

Daichi releases a breath of amusement. While he didn’t know Sugawara at the time, he’s heard plenty of stories from Iwaizumi and Kuroo about the healer’s pre-mission nerves. The three of them used to work for different mercenary groups. Daichi fondly recalls a mission that must have been one of the first ones he worked- Iwaizumi laughed as he explained Sugawara was so worried about his comrades getting injured that he brought a sack filled with potions and three staves. Daichi could picture it easily if he tried- like he was there when it happened and it makes him almost laugh aloud. Always so concerned for others.

But there’s another layer to this, Daichi knows. It's bigger than routine jitters.

“Can I tell you something?” Daichi asks, letting his thumb stroke the skin right next to Sugawara’s mouth. He watches Sugawara lean into his touch, sighing and closing his eyes.

“Yes,” the healer replies. He turns his head to kiss the tips of Daichi’s fingers softly then opens his eyes to stare again. “Anything.”

Daichi smiles, though he feels almost the exact opposite of happy as he utters the words. “I’m going to miss you a lot. I can already tell,” he admits.

“Daichi…” Sugawara murmurs.

His hand drops to grasp Sugawara’s. They’re chilly to the touch, though it’s late afternoon and still hot out. Daichi begins rubbing gently to warm them up, keeping his eyes focused down to try and alleviate some of the distress. “I know, it won’t be long. No more than three weeks tops," he reasons. In the grand scheme of things, not a big chunk of time.

He pauses and Sugawara stays silent, so Daichi continues. “But, it will be the longest you and I have ever be apart, and I-“

He’s cut off by Sugawara wrenching his hands free and grabbing Daichi’s face with both, planting a firm kiss on his mouth. Daichi only remains surprised for a beat, wrapping his arms around Sugawara and reciprocating into the action. Strange, how one kiss from Sugawara seems to clear the doubt in his head as if he influences the very nature of his thoughts. They pull apart, only inches away. Daichi sees a layer of sheen tears in Sugawara’s eyes and his grip grows tighter.

“I’m going to miss you too,” the healer whispers. “I already do and we haven’t left yet,” he adds with an amused exhale though he looks heartbroken.

Daichi kisses him again, knowing it's not enough but trying anyway. “I’ll be thinking of you every day,” he says. He really means it.

The healer lowers his forehead to rest on Daichi’s shoulder. A wobbly sigh comes from him. “Are you trying to make me cry?” Sugawara asks lightheartedly.

One of Daichi’s hands rests behind Sugawara’s head, stroking through the light hair as he chuckles. “Of course not,” he replies, placing a kiss atop his head.

Sugawara lifts himself slowly and with a sniffle, meets Daichi’s eyes. “You used to blush like a maiden when asking me on a date and now you say embarrassing things without batting an eye,” he teases, settling into a genuine smile. “You’ve come a long way.”

Daichi reaches for one of Sugawara’s hands, threading their fingers together loosely. “ _We’ve_ come a long way,” he corrects.

“Yea,” Sugawara comments, staring at their hands warmly. “And we’re going to go further together, right?”

He brings the pale, slender hand to his lips, mimicking Sugawara’s action and pressing light kisses to his cold fingers. “Right,” he says, curling his hand around Sugawara’s. “No amount of time apart is gonna stop us.”

“Good,” Sugawara murmurs. He leans close again, bringing their hands aside so he can kiss Daichi. “I love you,” Sugawara utters against his lips.

Daichi’s free arm finds its way around the healer’s middle, pulling him closer. “I love you too,” he whispers back. “So much.”

After he speaks those words, Sugawara’s kisses become greedy, pushing himself closer against Daichi and bringing a hand behind his neck. Daichi is perfectly okay with it, tilting his head so they can press into each other easier and giving a sound of contentment. Daichi is also okay with how Sugawara all but hoists himself into his lap and kisses him with fervor. He's sure they don't have much time to be fooling around like this, But Daichi pays it no mind, too wrapped up in Sugawara's love to care.

Before he knows it, Daichi has Sugawara unclothed and on his back, with an arm hooked around both his thighs and his head in between. Sugawara’s fingers shift between running through Daichi's hair and pausing to grip as he releases quiet sounds of delight. Daichi drinks them down like a man thirsting for days in a desert, loving to see him unravelled like this. Into something so raw and vulnerable and trusting. Into something he knows is meant for him and only him. A cold hand meets his flushed cheek and Daichi looks up to meet Sugawara’s glazed over eyes. The aching tightness inside of him grows. It could be described as both pleasurable and painful.

He savours the kisses. The touches from Sugawara and the brush of his skin along Daichi's. The way Sugawara throws his head back into the pillow when he's unravelling and coming undone at the seams. How he presses his forehead to Daichi's when he's got a handful of him and sending him closer and closer to the edge. The way Sugawara whispers he loves Daichi and it's the final push propelling him into his own orgasm with a shudder. How they're both recapturing their breaths in heavy pants afterwards. He savours it all, knowing it will be awhile until he gets to lie with his lover like this again.

And if Daichi is honest with himself, he wishes he could capture this moment, hold it in his hands and keep it forever.

It’s naïve to think and he knows it.

But even the sturdiest of men can waver at times.

* * *

The farewell from the Kingdom is quick. Oikawa is the one to see the group off, explaining Hinata and Kenma are both busy attending to other duties. Kuroo watches Iwaizumi, adorned in new clothes and weapons provided by Hinata, hoisting himself onto his horse while Oikawa is droning on about how important it is they don’t fuck this up. He doesn’t use those words exactly, but Kuroo gets the indirect message despite Oikawa’s charming smile and playful tone.

“Somehow, I think you’re hoping we fail. Just so you can say you were right,” Iwaizumi says without looking at Oikawa. If he did, he’d catch the hard stare and the way his smile dropped. “Come on, let’s set out,” Iwaizumi commands to the rest of the group, steering his horse into a trot towards the castle gates.

Kuroo follows immediately, hearing the others do the same. Bokuto says something else to Oikawa and yells out a goodbye.

“All right!” The knight exclaims, pumping a fist in the air. “Let's do this!” He declares.

Kuroo smirks, shaking his head. He sure is eccentric, but it's part of the reason they hit it off so quickly he supposes. An entertaining guy, for sure.

“You don’t get outside of the castle much, do you?” He asks with a sly grin. Bokuto denies it, reminding Kuroo he rode off to their fort yesterday with a pout.

The ride towards the eastern side of the city takes time. They should be able to get a decent amount of travel before the sun sets, Kuroo thinks. Iwaizumi said as a group they’d travel northeast together for a few hours and then split into two. It was hard for Kuroo to pretend like he didn’t see the sullen expressions on Sugawara and Daichi's faces. Everyone in their group knows those two practically rely on each other to function.

And when they’re out of the city and at the end of a path which forks off into multiple directions, Kuroo acts like he doesn’t see it again. Or how Daichi appears to have changed completely, keeping his gaze low while Iwaizumi gives a few more instructions to the group before they part.

Sugawara and Daichi get off their horses to give each other a hug and Kuroo can’t ignore that one, or how he actually feels bad for the two sickening lovebirds. The goodbyes are quick and they start riding in different directions, until Kuroo hears Bokuto yelling his name. He peers over his shoulder, watching the knight approaching curiously.

“Kuroo I almost forgot!” Bokuto exclaims, stopping in front of him and reaching into a bag tied to his saddle. “Here, this is for you," he says, holding a book out to him.

Kuroo’s eyebrow arches and the second follows as he recognizes the dark tome Bokuto is handing him. It's one he’s never seen. Kuroo looks at Bokuto skeptically. “Where’d you get this?” He asks.

“Huh?” Bokuto asks, cocking his head. “Lord Kozume gave it to me. Asked me to give it to you once we were out of the city,” he explains.

Kuroo peers down at the tome in his hands. Kenma got it for him then? Finding such a tome doesn’t come easy to your average person. Though he supposes, Kenma really isn’t average even if the man himself doesn’t necessarily think so. Now holding the rare tome in his hands, Kuroo solidifies his belief that Kenma is completely out of the ordinary. And another part of him is incredibly flattered by the surprise gift.

“The clever cat,” Kuroo murmurs to himself.

“What?” Bokuto asks. The knight turns his head around when Akaashi calls him over to continue riding. He smiles, turning back to Kuroo for another moment. “Ah, forget it! See you in a couple weeks, yea?” He says with a wave, trotting after his group.

Kuroo releases a breath of amusement, nodding and smiling at the tome. “Right.”

"Oi! Quit your dawdling and get going!" Iwaizumi yells from ahead.


	6. Snakes in the dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one’s a bit of a shorter chapter, but the next will be longer to make up for it!

The north group rides a few hours past sunset before setting up camp. It is not a pleasant sleep on the ground, but as always Akaashi is the first to rise the next morning off to search for food. Their makeshift camp sits on the edge of a forest, so Akaashi grabs the new bow he reluctantly accepted (or was forced to take) from Hinata and wanders deeper into the trees in search of food.

He etches markings into trees with an arrow head every now and then to prevent himself from getting lost. Akaashi spots a deer before it catches sight of him, not bothering to consider it as a possibility. Much too big for them, plus Akaashi would have trouble bringing it back on his own. The deer’s head snaps towards him after he purposely steps on a branch, making eye contact with Akaashi and dashing off in the opposite direction.

The sniper decides to move up into the trees, figuring something small should come by if he is patient enough. He perches on a high up branch, taking the morning silence as a minor blessing to relax. It is not that Akaashi minded having Bokuto speak with him for most of their travels yesterday, rather he is not used to someone wanting to talk to him for so long. Akaashi is well aware of his quiet nature, figuring it to be the cause for people choosing not to approach him for idle chatter. Bokuto seemingly threw this concept out of a window, talking about the city, the castle, the knights he patrols with, even gossiping about the new recruits. Akaashi listened patiently, giving an occasional comment or sound of acknowledgement if needed.

His thoughts trail off until movement in his peripheral startles him. A rabbit stands below, ears perked and munching on greens every few seconds while checking its surroundings. In a silent movement, Akaashi reaches for an arrow, lining it against his bow and drawing the string slowly. He remains unseen by the animal as he takes aim. Giving himself a couple extra seconds to ensure precision, Akaashi exhales and is ready to release the string-

“Akaashi!” He hears Bokuto yell, drawing his name out in a dramatic manner. Akaashi gasps, aim thrown off as the arrow is released. It sinks into the ground about a foot away from the rabbit, who immediately bounds off into some bushes. With a disgruntled expression, Akaashi sighs and glances around for the source of the interruption.

The knight is walking around, head moving every which way, searching the tree tops with a thoughtful expression. Free from his armour, Akaashi observes the strong build Bokuto carries. Broad shoulders and a well-defined chest, likely a result of all his training. Akaashi recalls Bokuto explaining he practices with a javelin quite regularly, seeing as long-range attacks are useful to have as a cavalier. It is plain to see how that has contributed to his strength. Akaashi notices the definition of muscles in his arm through his clothes as he lifts a hand to his mouth, getting ready to yell again.

And while Akaashi may have been slightly distracted by his fixation on the man, he would very much not like to have all the animals in the forest flee. He clears his throat and Bokuto’s head turns in his general direction as his lips part, taking a moment to find Akaashi before his eyes light up. Akaashi can tell he is about to start screaming from the look, so he brings his finger to his lips quickly.

The way Bokuto’s eyes widen with the determination of a child, clenching his fists and nodding his head eagerly, brings a small smile to Akaashi’s face. Truly something else.

Bokuto stops under the tree Akaashi is in, craning his head up to meet the sniper’s gaze. “What are you doing?” He asks in a loud whisper.

“Trying to get breakfast,” Akaashi replies just as quiet. “You scared it off,” he points out.

Shock slaps itself over Bokuto’s face. “Akaashi! I didn’t know, I’m sorry!” He shouts, then presses his hands over his mouth, having the decency to appear sheepish at least. Akaashi sighs again, dropping his head a moment.

Bokuto’s hands fall to his sides. “But we have lots of rations with us, you know?” He reminds with a cock of his head to the side.

Akaashi swallows thickly. “Yes- I am aware,” he replies. “I am used to practicing in the mornings though,” he excuses, though it is far from the real reason he decided to wander off on his own. Bokuto does not need to know such details.

“If you wanted to practice, can’t you shoot at any of the trees as targets?” Bokuto asks curiously.

Akaashi tries not to frown. “Kageyama would have enjoyed the fresh meat,” he protests. He cannot quite figure why he is justifying himself in a weak attempt and if it was someone like Sugawara listening, he would have surely caught onto something more.

Bokuto however, nods. “Oh, well that makes sense,” he reasons with a shrug. “Say, Akaashi?”

He glances down. “Yes Bokuto-san?”

“Do you think I could join you up there? It looks fun,” the knight says.

Akaashi is silent a few seconds before nodding. “I suppose,” he answers passively. “It is not as fun as you might think though.”

Bokuto takes the response like he received a special invite, grinning brightly and examining the tree with a hand to his mouth. Akaashi is amused by how serious he appears, only for it to be replaced with surprise when Bokuto backs up a few steps and runs at the tree to jump and grasp the lowest branch. He misses by about a foot, dropping back to the ground on both feet and huffing annoyedly.

The knight glares at the tree and rises, attempting the jump again. He uses his running momentum to kick against the trunk and jump higher towards the branch, managing to get a hand on it for a few seconds and swinging before losing grip and falling roughly to the ground this time.

“Bokuto-san?” Akaashi asks politely.

“I’m okay!” He insists, though he rubs a spot on his back as he stands up.

Akaashi slings his bow over his shoulder and starts climbing to lower branches until he is perched on the one Bokuto is attempting to grab. He straddles the branch to keep himself steady, crossing his legs underneath it and reaching a hand down in offering. Bokuto stares at it for a moment, smiling and accepting the help with a soft thanks. Akaashi braces his grip tight, arm flexing as he takes on Bokuto’s weight. The knight propels himself up against the trunk, this time having Akaashi as a support to bring him upwards. Bokuto manages to get himself high enough to haul himself onto the branch, letting go of Akaashi’s hand when he sits in front of him.

He wears the delighted expression again and Akaashi raises a hand to press over Bokuto’s mouth. “Please, Bokuto-san. There will be no animals left in the forest if you continue yelling,” he whispers.

Something akin to a pout comes to the knight’s face, but he nods and Akaashi drops his hand. “If I may, how did you know where I went?”

“Oh, that?” Bokuto responds quietly. “I woke up hearing rustling. Saw you walking away and thought I was still dreaming so I went back to sleep. But I woke up for real shortly after and you were gone! I saw some markings on the trees and figured it was your doing.”

“How… perceptive of you,” Akaashi replies, genuinely impressed.

Bokuto smiles. “I'm not a knight for nothing, you know!” He says in a hushed tone.

“Right,” Akaashi agrees. “I am going to climb higher. Will you follow?”

Bokuto nods eagerly. They end up chatting together, sitting facing each other on different branches. Akaashi occasionally surveys around for any animals, but if he is honest with himself, he has no desire to hunt anymore. Chatting with Bokuto like this is a good enough distraction. He feels content like this, answering Bokuto’s questions about his archery skills and all but forgetting his troubles.

When it is time to head back, Akaashi realizes Bokuto has somewhat of a fear of heights, as noticeable from his panicked face and his lack of movement. Akaashi stares at the knight from the ground below, who has his arms wrapped around the tree tightly and a scared look in his eyes.

“Was it always this high off the ground!?” Bokuto cries out.

Akaashi nods silently, lips pressed together and attempting to think of a way to coax him down.

* * *

The eastern group sets off early in the morning on the second day, riding through the continuous rolling plains. Kuroo could be described as half-conscious, dozing in and out even as the sun beams down on him. Mornings are just not his forte. If it were up to him, they’d travel through all through the night.

“Quit falling behind Kuroo!” Iwaizumi yells behind him without looking.

Kuroo groans in response, trotting to catch up to the other two. Daichi has remained reserved ever since they split off from the group and neither Iwaizumi or himself have any idea how to approach it. Iwaizumi had told Kuroo the previous night he thinks he owes the man an apology, but Kuroo reasoned that Daichi would want anything but pity if he’s already feeling down on himself. They both know it’s nothing personal, Daichi is upset about the situation and he’ll eventually come around. So instead, Kuroo advised they avoid speaking of it or anything do to with Sugawara. Iwaizumi held no protests.

But by early afternoon, Daichi brings it up. “I won’t be sulking forever. And I won’t let this affect the mission,” he says out of the blue. Kuroo raises an eyebrow and Iwaizumi glances to the brigand.

“We didn’t think you would,” Iwaizumi responds.

“Even if it did, we’d handle it fine,” Kuroo chips in with a smirk.

Daichi gives a small laugh, nodding. “Right.”

“Until Kuroo has to man the ship and crashes us into rocks,” Iwaizumi says. Kuroo gives him a look while Daichi laughs again, but he supposes if it helps Daichi feel better then it doesn’t matter if the jokes are at his own expense.

Hours into travel and they’re discussing theories as to why the men they’re searching for would conspire to assassinate the King. Clearly not to usurp, considering they fled. Iwaizumi said he thought it was politically motivated, probably some laws the King implemented the higher ups didn’t like. Daichi thinks it’s so the nobles could use Hinata as a puppet while pulling the real strings from behind. Kuroo considers these possibilities, but doesn’t have a sure answer himself. Maybe they simply wanted greater power for themselves, but didn’t execute the plan perfectly, hence having fled the Kingdom.

“You know, I didn’t think you’d agree to this mission Iwaizumi,” Daichi pipes up randomly. “Especially with Kageyama set against it.”

“Actually, he’s the reason I changed my mind,” Iwaizumi answers. Kuroo perks up interestedly as his boss continues. “Kageyama came to me later that night and told me we should take it.”

“Why?” Kuroo asks curiously.

Iwaizumi shrugs. “Didn’t say.”

“Ugh and you didn’t pry?” The dark mage mutters, crossing his arms.

“Unlike you, I don’t find the need to poke my nose in other people’s business,” Iwaizumi quips back.

"So boring," Kuroo says under his breath.

Their conversations drift and drop off here and there. By the end of the second day Kuroo lies on his back, the other two sleeping nearby while the dark mage remains wide awake despite the late hour. Their fire has been put out long ago and Kuroo predicts he’s going to be tired in the morning, but sleeping at a reasonable hour is something he doesn’t normally do to begin with.

And seeing as that’s the case tonight, the dark mage sits up quietly, reaching for the tome Kenma gave him and deciding he’s got some time to kill. Practicing any of the new spells he’s read thus far won’t be happening anytime soon lest he wake Daichi or Iwaizumi (or both) and get punched, but Kuroo is eagerly thinking about what it will be like. Travelling nearly the entire day leaves his body begging for rest by night and truthfully, he doesn’t have the focus to practice if he wanted to.

He crafts a small flame above his hand, cracking the old tome open in his lap. He pinches the pages and flips through them quickly, catching a flash of something on a page near the back. Kuroo gives a small sound of curiosity, returning to the page and raising his eyebrows at a folded paper inserted. Kuroo removes it, opening the page and becomes alerted at the sight of his name written at the top in neat, black ink.

_Kuroo,_

_I hope this tome proves useful to you during your mission._

_I am sure by now you have at least questioned the nature of the cause for the assassination. While I said we have no clear motive, I have my own theories as to why the King’s men turned on him. I will not waste time explaining what-ifs, but it is important for me to at least state I believe the fugitives are not the only ones tied to the assassination. I am uncertain how many more, if there are, but I cannot shake my fear for Shouyou’s safety in these times._

_Should something put the Prince’s life in danger, we will flee the castle and go into hiding. I’ve already made arrangements for messengers to track down both groups in the event of this happening. They will instruct you on where to bring the fugitives. It is likely the city will go into lockdown and the masses will go into panic. Obviously, I do not wish for such things to unfold, but I must be prepared for anything._

_I apologize for not saying this in person. However, when wolves are hiding in plain sight one must take extra caution to ensure safety._

_May the spirits of the dead protect you._

_-K_

Kuroo reads the letter multiple times, and the last line about twenty more before he closes the letter in the book, the tips of his fingers feeling numb.

***

“So Kenma might be a dark mage, is it a big deal?” Iwaizumi asks him the next day of their travels after Kuroo explains everything to them. “The part about Prince Hinata seems much more troubling if you ask me.”

Daichi gives a hum of agreement. Kuroo rolls his eyes. “No, it’s not a ‘might be’ scenario. He is. The last line in the letter? It’s something the mages used to say to us all the time. In the mornings, during lessons, even at meal times. It’s like a religious mantra. Nobody just says that,” Kuroo recalls with a frown. “And they’re both troubling pieces of information,” he amends.

“Why’s that?” Daichi asks curiously.

Kuroo remains silent for a beat or two. “He’s most likely still affiliated with the Institute of Dark Magic somehow. He’s gotta know who I am or at least heard of me. If they find out my whereabouts…” he trails off.

“I don’t see Kenma as an enemy,” Iwaizumi reasons. “If he didn’t approve of us or our actions, we would have known by now.”

Kuroo isn’t so sure. While he knows little about Kenma, he knows enough to have a bit of fear towards the man. His passive exterior may make you think he’s nothing worth noticing. But Kuroo has quickly learned this not to be the case. He’s smart and cunning. The quiet ones are usually the one to look out for, Kuroo supposes.

“That’s right. If there’s anyone to be cautious of, it’s the advisor. He really didn’t to take to us,” Daichi recalls.

Iwaizumi huffs. “People like him need a reality check. Or a punch to the face.” He pauses, before adding, “Maybe both.”

Kuroo snickers. It’s amusing how quickly his anger surges as soon as Oikawa is brought up. “You really liked him, huh?” He teases.

“He’s the worst,” Iwaizumi barks out. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone so full of themselves, so judgemental, so, so-“ Iwaizumi pauses.

“Terrible?” Daichi fills in.

“Exactly!” Iwaizumi states with a sigh.

Another laugh passes through Kuroo’s lips. “Tell us how you really feel,” he taunts.

Iwaizumi turns to glare at the dark mage. “Why don’t you shut up and reread your love note for the hundredth time.”

Now it’s Daichi who’s laughing and Kuroo blinks stupidly, feeling he’s in a bit of a lose-lose situation no matter how he responds.

* * *

Two days following the departure of the mercenaries, Hinata finds himself walking to his room late at night with Asahi trailing behind. It’s been quiet since the group left and Hinata has found it hard to keep his patience in check. He’s been able to devote his free time (which comes few and far in between these days with all the boring meetings and paperwork) towards training, practicing the skills Kageyama taught him from their sparring. Kenma tells him constantly thinking about what’s happening isn’t going to get him anywhere, so he should remain focused on his duties at the castle. Hmph, easy for him to say.

Hinata calls a quick farewell to Asahi for the night as he opens the door to his room, humming a light tune to himself and shutting the door. The room is dimly lit with candles, giving a faint glow to it. Hinata’s humming turns into a whistle as he strolls across his room into the adjacent bathing room. He pauses just after a few steps in the doorway, cocking his head to the side at the empty bathing tub.

“That’s weird,” he murmurs to himself. There aren’t any folded towels laying on the side table next to it, or his evening clothes. Usually, there’s always a bath drawn for him at night.

Hinata turns around, walking back into his room and wonders if the servants were busy with something tonight and forgot to draw it for him. He stops in the threshold and spots a figure standing in the open doors of his balcony. Upon further examination, Hinata catches glimpse of a knife in his hand. He’s much bigger than Hinata, at least a full foot. His face is neither familiar nor friendly, eyes sharpened on the Prince. Hinata’s curtains flutter quietly with a light breeze passing through them, the only sound to be heard. Right as the fight or flight instinct starts to kick in, Hinata feels his pulse quickening and the man advances towards him.

There’s no time to call for guards. It’s unlikely Asahi would hear him that far away anyway. The intruder would be in front of him and ready to kill had he wasted time trying. Instead, Hinata grabs the first weapon-like item closest to him, happening to be a tall, metal candle holder, and runs back into the bathing room. The man’s steps follow in light sounds, crossing into the room with an utmost patience in his slow steps. Hinata finds it bone chilling.

“W-who are you!?” Hinata asks from behind the large bathing tub. It’s not much, but enough to put some sort of distance between him and the man, who doesn’t answer his question, instead finally making a swift move to run at Hinata. The Prince runs the opposite direction around the large tub as the man advancing. They both dash around the perimeter and abruptly, the man pauses, giving an annoyed frown and eyeing Hinata up like he’s no more than a pesky child. Hinata scowls, holding the candle holder in front of him as if it’s a sword, not caring how ridiculous it must look.

His back is now to the doorway into his bedroom, but he doesn’t run towards it because it means leaving himself exposed to the intruder and while Hinata is fast, there’s no room for slip ups at this moment. If he’s going to escape it has to be a sure one, though he can’t seem to think of any brilliant ideas off the top of his head. He’s got to do _something_ though, or else he’s going to be here in this weird standoff, staring at the man trying to murder him across his bathtub.

Without breaking eyes contact, Hinata’s free hand slowly lays itself on the edge of the side table next to the bath. He grips it tightly and in the next instance, hurls it towards the man before making a break back into the bedroom. The sound of the table hitting the ground meets Hinata’s ears, clearly been dodged rather easily. He hopes it's enough of a distraction, laying his hand on the doorknob in the bedroom but knowing he’s not in the clear when the man appears in his peripheral. He’s quick! Jumping backwards on light feet, Hinata misses the thrust of the man’s knife, hearing the blade cut the air cleanly in its trajectory. The sound spikes another wave of adrenaline inside of Hinata’s body.

Now with nothing between them, the man is able to face Hinata head on. The fear has practically taken control of his body, making Hinata’s movements feel as though they are happening on their own accord. He doesn’t rush into rash counter attacks like with Asahi, rather he waits and reads the man’s body language, just like he practiced with Kageyama.

Hinata catches the lunge in the man’s right foot and side steps out of the way of the knife thrust towards him. The man follows through seconds after and Hinata has to bring the candle holder up to try and stop it this time. The knife clanks against the metal with a harsh sound, but it gets the job done and Hinata parries the attack off, ducking under the man’s arm and coming up behind him.

He grips the candle holder with both hands tightly and swings with all his might, only to be dodged by the intruder. The man responds fiercely with another slash and Hinata jumps back again, but not far enough. The knife slices vertically over his left eye and sends flares of indescribable pain behind it. Hinata keens, dropping the candle holder and stumbling backwards with a hand to his eye.

The fear that he thought couldn’t grow any larger has bound itself over every inch of his skin. He can feel his blood whooshing through his veins with every drum-kick beat of his fluttering heart. Surely the valves within are going to explode if it keeps beating this intensively. There’s sweat covering every inch of his skin and yet Hinata feels as though he’s freezing.

His hand drops and he can’t see a thing out of his eye, though Hinata remains light on his feet and turns out of the way of the man’s reach. His uninjured eye watches the gleam of the knife come down close. With the man in such close proximity, Hinata counters, driving his heel into the man’s wrist. He grunts in pain and drops the knife. The second it touches the ground the Prince kneels and grasps it.

He stabs into the man’s leg fiercely, right above his knee. The man hollers and Hinata wrenches the weapon free with a hard tug, panting heavily as the intruder tries to back away, blood beginning to stain his pants. His free hand catches the man’s ankle and Hinata watches him lose balance and land hard on the ground. Not giving him the chance to recover, Hinata brings the knife up and plunges it deep into his stomach. Another cry, one of terrible anguish, falls from the man’s lips.

Trusting he’s going to stay down after that, Hinata bolts upright and practically rips his door open, running down the hallway and screaming at the top of his lungs for Asahi, guards, _anyone_. He sprints as if he’s going to look over his shoulder and the wounded man will be gaining on him, a bloody trail left behind in his path. The adrenaline is still peaked, though the pain behind his eye is beginning to flare up again, almost as if he had forgotten about it temporarily. He thinks he’s trying to open his eye experimentally, but there’s either too much blood filling the wound or he’s been partially blinded because Hinata can't see a thing.

A sob wrenches from deep within his chest and when he notices Asahi finally opening the doors to the hallway at the far end, Hinata’s last reserves of energy crumble and he drops to his knees while the knight yells for a healer and runs to him.


	7. To fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiyaaa everyone. I've been fairly sick for awhile now, and I'm just starting to get the kick on it. Usually I like to stay a chapter ahead of myself but I decided to go ahead and post this even though I'm behind. This might mean it will be some time before the next one gets posted.
> 
> As always, enjoy!

It’s mid afternoon when Iwaizumi’s group makes it to Matsushima. Thus far, travel has been light work and they’ve kept up with their predicted timeline. While it doesn’t hold a candle to the size of the Kingdom, there are thousands of people residing in the town. They’re tired from the continuous travel, yet Iwaizumi orders the small group to split up and go search for any information on the merchant’s whereabouts after they obtain a map of the town. They mark out which places to search and plan to rendezvous at an inn by the docks at sunset.

Iwaizumi’s first destination is another inn. It doesn’t take long for him to arrive and he’s greeted by a young woman with a timid nature upon entering. Politely, he gives a brief description of the merchant and asks if he’s been seen around the town. She shakes her head and murmurs such a visitor hasn’t stayed in her inn. Searching a few more, Iwaizumi discovers nothing useful and sets off towards the taverns. On the second one he visits, he overhears a group of men discussing the King. One of them says the man hasn’t made a public appearance in over a week. Another questions if he’s fallen bedridden, perhaps due to sickness.

Huh, Iwaizumi thinks to himself while sipping his ale, that bastard Oikawa was right. People are quick to jump on this and nothing has officially been released to the public. Iwaizumi himself would have never paid attention to news like this.

He moves on to three other taverns with nothing butt a buzz in his head. Rising onto his horse, Iwaizumi rides back towards the docks and hopes his comrades had any better luck. He’s the second to arrive to the inn, met with a simple shake of his head from Daichi when asked if he found out anything useful. Iwaizumi explains he heard people speculating the King’s absence and Daichi mulls this over, not having much to say in response.

Kuroo arrives quite awhile later. Daichi and Iwaizumi wait for him on the porch of the inn, rooms paid for already and keys stuffed in their pockets. The hope planted in Iwaizumi’s head that Kuroo is late because he’s figured something out is dismantled after the dark mage approaches on his horse and declares he learned shit all about the merchant’s whereabouts.

Iwaizumi sighs and tilts his head back against the outside wall. “Guess we’ll search again tomorrow and look into getting a boat the next day.”

Kuroo gives a noise of protest as he lowers himself from the horse. “If we’re sailing, it has to be tomorrow. It’s the only day of the week ships go out to the surrounding islands. Most are cargo, and I found a guy who would take a small bribe to get us on,” he muses, holding the reins to walk the horse behind the building where the others are housed in a small stable.

Iwaizumi mulls the words over thoughtfully, waiting for Kuroo to return before making a decision. “Guess we don’t have much of a choice then. Good work finding us a boat. Looks like we won’t need you after all, sailor,” he teases Daichi. The brigand let’s out a loud yawn in response, rising from his makeshift seat on the steps of the porch and stretching his arms above his head.

“Well if that’s the case I’ll be heading to bed. It’ll be another early morning,” Daichi says.

Kuroo groans loudly as he follows behind. “Don’t remind me.”

* * *

Tsukishima has heard the rumours. It’s spreading like wildfire at this point, all sorts of different stories twisted through the grapevine of gossip about the Royal Family. He knows it all to be bullshit, but finds the stories people spread and believe as fact to be rather entertaining. You can practically hear people talking about it at every corner he rounds, every shop he passes by. Some people keep hushed about it, covering their mouths as they whisper whereas others boldly declare their stories like the weather. Those people better hope guards don’t hear that kind of chatter, but as Tsukishima thinks on this, he realizes he hasn’t seen any palace guards patrolling the city. He tries not to let the detail bug him, but is unable to prevent the small frown while considering what kind of implications this could mean.

When he’s nearing the castle gates, the sour feeling crawls higher up his spine. There’s triple the amount of guards standing post outside of the closed gates, each one of them armed and standing still as stone. Not promising.

Still, Tsukishima approaches the gates casually, noticing one of the guards gripping his lance a bit tighter upon sight. He tries not to roll his eyes.

“What do you think you’re doing? Step aside,” one of the guards commands him. Tsukishima stops and holds his gaze a moment, offering a thin smile.

“I’m here on orders from Lord Kozume,” he explains politely.

“Like shit you are,” another guard bites out. “Get out of here, peasant.”

Tsukishima gives a short laugh, removing a letter from his pockets. “I can assure you, the Lord is expecting me to be here today, so if you could-“

One of them cuts him off, pointing his lance in Tsukishima’s direction. Cool eyes flick to the weapon before Tsukishima glowers at the guard. “We’re not going to tell you again,” the guard warns. “Get out of here unless you want the shit kicked out of you, beanpole.”

Now, he can’t help the eyeroll. “Real original. After I get inside, I’ll be sure to tell the Lord how incompetent the guards are,” he says, turning around to walk away. “And if any of you oafs had a brain, you’d realize this isn’t my first time visiting Lord Kozume,” he calls over his shoulder.

“What’d you say!?” One of the guards yells back. Tsukishima hears heavy footsteps starting to follow and grips the handle of his knife tucked into the belt at his hips.

“You really need me to repeat it?” He asks, stopping and glaring around at the guard, making sure he sees the knife. The man stops and his eyes fall to the weapon. Tsukishima hears the other guards unsheathing their own weapons and while grossly outnumbered, remains calm and eyes them up coolly. The odds definitely are not stacked in his favour, but if he plays his cards right he should be able to-

“Tsukki!” A voice calls out frantically. Already recognizing the voice, Tsukishima sees Yamaguchi on the other side of the gate, sitting atop the same giant horse he was with the other day. The brunet watches the scene with a confused expression, his worried eyes trained on the guards holding their weapons. “What’s going on!?” He cries.

The guards stare skeptically between each other, like they’re wondering if they should really be answering to a stable boy. Tsukishima fills in for them. “Hello again, Yamaguchi. As you can see, the guards are preventing me from getting a message to Lord Kozume, though I have a letter with his signature requesting my presence,” he explains calmly.

Yamaguchi holds the reins in front of him tight, looking fearful. “W-well why aren’t you letting him in?” He asks the guards cautiously.

“We have strict orders not to let any visitors into the Palace!” One answers fiercely, still holding his sword towards Tsukishima like he’s ready to attack at any given moment. What a joke.

“Yes, but if Lord Kozu-“

A different guard cuts Yamaguchi off. “Fuck off, stable boy. This has nothing to do with you,” he spits out aggressively.

Tsukishima raises his chin defiantly towards the man, flexing his fingers around the knife handle. A prick of anger seeps into him like the comment was directed at him and not Yamaguchi. He watches as a flash of panic takes Yamaguchi’s features, expecting him to back down and walk off, but Tsukishima blinks in surprise when the brunet’s eyes grow angry.

“You-you!” Yamaguchi starts, fumbling for words and pointing a finger at the guard accusingly. “I’ll go get Lord Kozume myself if I have to!” He yells. “And…and he’ll be really mad if he finds out you’ve caused all this trouble for Tsukki!”

Tsukishima shakes his head a little defeatedly, sighing. Yamaguchi is about as intimidating as a newborn pup, for heavens sake. And what’s with that nickname again? He is a little taken back Yamaguchi is standing up for him though. All things considered, he’s not the most confrontational person. 

To his surprise, one of the guards starts letting up. “Maybe we should let him in,” he murmurs.

“Are you stupid? What part of a lockdown involves letting some commoner into the Palace on the word of a stable boy?”

Tsukishima lifts an eyebrow. Lockdown? Why would the castle…

“This is your last warning! I’ll find him right now!” Yamaguchi yells louder, steering his horse to turn around and start approaching the castle. A few more of the guards glance at each other hesitantly.

“You might want to listen,” Tsukishima adds in. The guards turn their attention back to him and Tsukishima works to keep the smugness out of his voice, though it proves a challenge. “Lord Kozume doesn’t like to be kept waiting as I’m sure you know. If he has to waste time making the trip out here…” he trails off, shrugging.

“Let him in,” one of the guard’s mutters begrudgingly. “But keep two guards on him at all times!”

“How lucky of me,” Tsukishima says with a roll of his eyes, approaching the gate as the iron bars begin to separate. He ignores the glares on him and sees Yamaguchi pausing up ahead at the sound of the gates opening, turning to Tsukishima with a bright smile. The stable boy lowers himself from the horse, waiting for Tsukishima to catch up.

“I’m really sorry about that,” Yamaguchi remedies. His grip on the horse’s rein tightens. “Things have been…strange in the castle recently.”

Tsukishima shakes his head. “So I’ve noticed. I don’t suppose you know why?”

“Ah, no I don’t get told much,” the stable boy answers sheepishly, beginning to walk with Tsukishima towards the castle with two guards following behind. “Not like it’s my business or anything, right?” He asks lightheartedly.

Tsukishima gives a huff of amusement. “Well in any case. Thanks,” he nods towards the gates. “I was thinking I’d have to go and get myself arrested to get inside.”

Yamaguchi’s eyes widen. “What? Tsukki, that’s so dangerous!”

“You’ve really given up on trying to correct yourself, huh?” The taller man banters lightly, a small smirk tugging at his mouth.

“Oh!” Yamaguchi yips in embarrassment, finally aware of the slip ups and pressing his free hand to the side of his face. “Sorry, it just kind of comes out. I-I can stop it if-“

“It’s fine,” Tsukishima counters with a roll of his eyes. He can’t say there’s anyone else he’d tolerate calling him a ridiculous nickname, but coming from Yamaguchi it’s oddly endearing. “You caught me at the perfect time. There’s something I wanted to ask you, but it will have to wait until later. I’m already late for the meeting with Lord Kozume.”

Yamaguchi peers at him curiously. “Me? What could you want?” He asks timidly.

“I said it’ll have to wait,” Tsukishima replies with a frown, stopping in front of the stone steps leading up to the castle. He turns to Yamaguchi. “Where can I find you after I’m done?”

“Uh, the stable is where I am usually,” he answers quietly, eyes lowering to the ground.

“Great,” Tsukishima comments, beginning to ascend the stairs. “See you in a bit, Yamaguchi.”

He doesn’t turn around giving the goodbye, nor does he notice the look of anticipation on Yamaguchi’s face as he watches Tsukishima climb to the top of the stairs of the castle.

* * *

Sugawara has been observing Akaashi and Bokuto throughout the duration of their travels. To put it simply, he would describe their interactions as entertaining. The way Bokuto seems drawn to Akaashi no matter what time of day it is, always in the mood to talk to him about anything and everything- there’s no other way to describe it than entertaining. And the best part of all, Sugawara has decided, is that Akaashi really doesn’t seem to have a problem with it. He watches the way Akaashi keeps eye contact with Bokuto as the overzealous man rambles, and how he gives simple replies which make Bokuto smile. How Akaashi sneaks small smiles in between the things Bokuto says to him.

It makes Sugawara happy. Not only because watching the start of something between two people is a good way to keep him distracted from Daichi, but he’s noticed in the mornings that Akaashi is different than normal. It’s hard to pin point because the man always keeps a composed demeanor, but it’s like every morning they travel he’s less willing to talk. Like he’s becoming distant from them, until Bokuto ends up chatting him into a better mood. Sugawara sees it as a good thing, how he inadvertently ended up being with someone who can bring him back to normal with ease. But he also has to wonder why Akaashi is acting differently in the first place.

It’s their fourth day of travelling and he decides to bring it up to Kageyama, who rides by his side while the other two are further ahead. “It’s nice seeing Akaashi getting close with someone,” Sugawara says.

Kageyama shrugs, staring at the two. Bokuto throws his head back and hollers with laughter at something Akaashi said. His laugh echoes around them. “Seems Bokuto is the one trying to get close. He’s doing all the talking,” he observes with genuine curiosity.

Sugawara laughs. “Oh Tobio. Haven’t you noticed Akaashi is talking more with Bokuto in a day than he does to any of us in a week?”

In reality, he doesn’t expect Kageyama to pick up on the subtleties in Akaashi’s behaviour. For all his skill with fighting, he lacks in areas like his ability to read others.

Kageyama scrunches his face in thought. “No. I figured Akaashi is too polite to tell him to stop talking.”

“I disagree. Akaashi knows how to tell someone to shut up in a polite way,” Sugawara explains. “Maybe you’ve never caught on when he does it to you,” he teases.

Kageyama glares lightly and Sugawara tries not to laugh again as the black-haired man brings a hand to his mouth, trying to recall a situation where it happened. “Anyways, it’s good. I like seeing him happy,” Sugawara says.

“You do?” Kageyama asks.

Sugawara gives him a side glance. “Of course. I like seeing all of you happy, you’re my family.”

Kageyama looks away, embarrassed. “I…like seeing you happy too, Sugawara. You haven’t been since we’ve left the city though.”

Sugawara blinks wide eyes at that one, not expecting both the sentiment nor the call-out he’s sure is meant in good nature, nonetheless feels similar to a blow to the gut. He swallows, thinking on his words. “Ah, well. It’s hard for me to say goodbye to loved ones even if it’s temporary.”

He feels Kageyama’s stare back on him and meets it with a small smile. “I think I understand. It’s because of Daichi mainly, right?”

He flushes a little at the bluntness. So much for distracting himself from thinking about the man. “Yes. When you love someone, being apart from them sort of feels like a part of you is gone too,” Sugawara admits.

“Love sounds painful,” Kageyama comments.

His words seem to echo the feeling inside Sugawara’s chest and he can’t help sighing. “Yea, but it’s worth it. You’ll see one day.”

“I will?” Kageyama asks, his eyes confused.

“Yes Tobio,” Sugawara says amidst a quiet giggle. “Everyone experiences love at least once.”

“How do you know when you do?” Kageyama probes curiously.

Sugawara is pleasantly surprised he cares enough to ask these questions. He’s always known under the tough exterior Kageyama has a caring, vulnerable layer to him. Expressing himself doesn’t come easy though and it’s taken a long time for Sugawara to realize this, never having faced such challenges in himself. But Kageyama has grown since the days of an aloof, bitter young boy.

“It’s different depending on who you ask,” Sugawara says. “Some say it hits you upon sight of the person, like a group of horses stampeding. Others think it’s something you don’t notice until you have a certain trust with another.”

Kageyama makes a disgruntled face and Sugawara rubs a hand behind his head. “It’s a hard question to answer is what I’m saying,” he eases.

Kageyama is looking away again, obviously uncomfortable. “So, what was it like for you?”

Sugawara blinks in surprise, feeling his face warm. “Oh, me?” He asks sheepishly. “Eh, well, the first time I ever saw Daichi I remember thinking how handsome he was. But loving him then? I don’t think so.”

Kageyama stays silent as Sugawara ponders. “I don’t know if there was a specific moment I knew. Maybe it was more like a collection of times we spent together, or the words we said and the trust we shared. They’re all like little pieces and when I put them together, I just knew,” he explains, staring at the sky above.

He glances to Kageyama. The black-haired man stares back at him, then at the ground ahead of them.

“I don’t think I understand but,” he raises his eyes to study the sky too. “Maybe I want to.”

Sugawara smiles.

* * *

Akaashi sits upon the piano bench, his feet dangling above the floor in the uncomfortable seat. He has lost track of how much time has been spent sitting here, but his legs feel stiff, almost numb from being in one position for so long. His fingers tread across the ivory keys in front of him, tapping them down in patterns and scaling up and down. The sounds echo around him into the large room decorated with fancy furniture he is never permitted to sit on, lest he receive a beating for his insolence. The air here is stale.

Akaashi wonders if the piano ever sounds nice to the ones listening because for him, the melodies are terrible. They songs he plays are said to be about things like love and peace, yet he does not find himself experiences such feelings playing them. The continuous repetitions in his head day in and day out from practice leave nothing but wanting to wipe them from his memory. Letting himself be distracted by his thoughts, Akaashi’s finger accidentally touches the wrong key and he knows the punishment is coming before it does, keeping his hands over the piano, closing his eyes and holding his breath.

The rod is brought down on his fingers. Pain shoots into the already bruised appendages and tears prickle behind Akaashi’s eyes. How he wants to scream! But it would encourage the punishment even further.

“Unacceptable! Again,” the voice next to him commands.

He knows better than to sniffle or wipe at his eyes, so with shaky hands Akaashi places his fingers atop the keys, taking a moment to breathe. As soon as he puts pressure on the keys, the only sound that comes out is the ringing of the morning bells. Akaashi blinks and when his eyes open, he stands on the platform next to his older brother and father, eyes trained down at the ground as his father delivers a speech about justice and evil. Akaashi raises his head only when his brother nudges him harshly, forcing himself to stare at the back of the boys’ heads. Their arms are bound behind their backs and Akaashi sees one boy’s hands trembling, his fists clenched tightly. Akaashi tries to breathe but his chest feels so tight his ribs might poke through his lungs if he forces it.

He wants to scream and yell _no!_ To defy his father as he addresses the crowd in front of him, and scream what he is doing is wrong. They are just boys- not much older than himself. How could the punishment fit their crimes? They do not deserve such treatment-

The false bottoms beneath their feet are released and immediately, their necks catch tightly around the nooses binding them, snapping and killing the boys immediately. Akaashi feels as though time has stopped in that moment- his eyes fixated on the scene like it is the only thing he will see again. Their bodies sway gently from the posts they hang from and silence ensues. Akaashi thinks he might vomit, sweltering heat crawling up his body.

He bends over, hands on his knees and panting. The corners of his eyes feel black and fuzzy. Static builds in his ears and he thinks a voice is talking to him but it comes through muffled and unintelligible. Akaashi raises his head to look up and now he stands in front of his father, listening to the man instruct he is to be betrothed to some woman from a western house he has never heard of.

And the bells have progressively gotten louder. He shakes his head back and forth to clear them, but it shoots a blinding pain behind his eyes. Akaashi drops to the floor on his knees, head cradled in his hands as he cries. They do not seem to stop, until Akaashi lifts his head and screams at the top of his lungs.

He arises with a sharp inhale, sitting up in a panic. It only takes a couple seconds for him to shake the fear off and realize he is back in reality, in a small bed at an inn they stopped at for the night. The room remains dark, but with a glance to the window Akaashi sees dawn should be breaking over the horizon shortly. He shuffles his legs over the bed and begins dressing himself, trying not to picture the dream or the way he can hear the bells ringing faintly.

* * *

Bokuto jumps up from his seat on the stairs of the porch at the sound of door opening quietly. He smiles brightly at the sight of Akaashi in the doorway, bow slung over his shoulder and giving him a neutral stare as he shuts the door behind him.

“G’morning Akaashi!” Bokuto greets chipperly with a salute.

Akaashi gives a slight nod. “Good morning Bokuto-san. You are up early,” he comments.

The knight also nods, but with much more enthusiasm. “Yea! I was hoping we could go hunting this morning. Maybe you could show me how to use the bow!” He exclaims.

Akaashi is silent, holding his gaze a moment then dropping it to the ground. “Perhaps another morning. I would prefer to hunt alone today.”

Bokuto blinks in surprise, his smile slowly dropping. “Eh? Is something wrong?” He asks.

Akaashi shakes his head back and forth. “No, Bokuto-san, I simply-“

“Yeesh, how many times do I have to tell you not to keep up with the formalities? Call me Koutarou, or just Bokuto is fine.” Bokuto reasons, waving his hand.

Adding to his astonishment, the knight gets a strange feeling as Akaashi’s eyes narrow at him. “I shall address you as I should,” the man responds curtly, walking past Bokuto down the steps without another word. Bokuto blinks again, but catches himself and starts to trail after Akaashi as he walks to the small stable housing their horses. He’s not sure what’s wrong, and Bokuto doesn’t get why he’s acting this way.

“Then I’ll do the same, _Lord Akaashi_ ,” he says, attempting to lighten the mood.

It backfires immediately. Akaashi stops and whips around with rage in his eyes. “Bokuto-san, that is completely inappropriate,” he hisses.

Now he’s simply lost, unsure as to where this anger is coming from. Or if it's serious? It's too early in the morning to be piecing this together. “Says who? You’re the second son of the Lord, aren’t you?” He reasons.

Bokuto notices Akaashi’s hands clenched into tight fists at his sides. “Precisely. I am neither Lord, nor first born to him, therefore the title is incorrect. I have not been under Lord Akaashi’s house for years. Do not address me like that,” he orders and without another word, turns back around to go retrieve his horse.

Bokuto stands still where he is, watching Akaashi ride off with a strange feeling inside his chest. “I don’t know what just happened,” he whispers to himself.

* * *

Asahi keeps his head low as he walks. There’s really no need to, considering it’s past sunset and no one else is around to be seen, plus he’s got a cloak on to hide his face. It feels a little strange to be hiding his identity within the castle walls, but he does it out of fear. Countless things are running through his mind and he’s trying to figure a way to make sense of it all. There’s no possible way for Asahi to sort through all of the uncertainty right now and he knows it, but it’s also what adds to his anxiety. He feels like the Kingdom walls are crumbling in on themselves even as they stand tall, proud and untouched. Or maybe, it’s what he’s picturing is going to happen soon enough. Right now, it’s easy enough to do.

His fists clench tightly and he has to force himself to glance up at them to remind himself right now, things are okay. Well, not really. But they’re not on that level of catastrophic. Yet.

Asahi grimaces, exhaling slowly to clear his thoughts. He looks up and swallows at the sight of the familiar building up ahead. What is usually a boisterous cluster of buildings full of men working and yelling to one another now remains empty and silent. Asahi approaches one in particular, testing the door and finding it to be unlocked.

Upon his entering, a man speaks up. “Eh, we’re closed for the-“ He cuts himself off after turning to face Asahi, who has lowered his hood to show his face. “Oh, you’re that knight, yea? The one who guards the Prince?” He ponders.

Asahi nods. “Yes, good evening Tanaka-san. I wondered if Nishinoya is still around.”

Tanaka laughs. “Call me Ryuu. He’s finished up in the back. Here, I’ll go get him for you,” he offers.

Asahi manages a weak smile at the man’s easygoing behaviour and thanks him politely. He hears the sound of footsteps down the hallway before a door slams open. The knight winces, wondering if he should have been the one to go see Nishinoya instead.

Tanaka practically screams into the room. “Noya! There’s someone-“

A loud crashing interrupts and Asahi hears Nishinoya’s voice next. “Ryuu! If you don’t wanna be melted down next you’d better-“

“It’s the knight you’re always talking about!” Tanaka yells overtop of him.

And this is when Asahi decides to walk down the hallway and slip in behind Tanaka, waving a hand. Under normal circumstances, he would have surely gotten flustered at hearing such a comment. “My apologies. I didn’t think you were still working,” Asahi says apologetically.

Tanaka claps his hand on Asahi’s shoulder. “He really shouldn’t be. He’s been going at it since sunrise, so it’s a good thing you’re here to make him stop,” he explains, walking away. “I’m headed home for the night!” He calls off.

Nishinoya mutters a goodbye loud enough for Tanaka to hear and glances at Asahi with a bit of reluctance. Strange, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen the man look such a way. It doesn’t suit him.

Nishinoya removes his gloves, dropping them onto the work table. “Two visits in one week? Feels a little special,” he jests, but still sounds somewhat nervous.

Asahi inhales. “Noya, I-“

“Is everything okay?” Nishinoya asks impatiently, dropping the easy-going act completely.

Asahi has never been one to keep a poker face, he supposes. Reluctantly, he continues. “There’s no one else here, right?” He double checks, stepping further into the room and closing the door behind him.

Something doubtful has entered Nishinoya’s eyes. “No.”

Asahi nods, not looking at him. “Good. You need to get out of the castle as soon as possible,” he orders.

The shorter man’s eyebrows draw down and a frown settles on his lips. “What?”

Asahi steps closer to Nishinoya. “I can’t explain why, but it’s not safe here now. Things are going to get worse from here on out. Is there anywhere in the city you can stay for the time being?”

Slowly, Nishinoya nods. “Sure, my grandpa has a place in the southern streets,” he says.

The knight lays his hands on Nishinoya’s shoulders. “Good. You and Tanaka-san should stay there. At least until things cool down,” he reasons quietly. Who knows when that will be.

Nishinoya blinks doubtful eyes at him. “Asahi, you’re scaring me,” he admits.

The knight’s hold grows a bit tighter and Asahi lowers his head. “I know, I’m scared too. Really scared, actually. Some knight I am, huh?” He tries to joke. He sighs when Nishinoya doesn’t say anything. “I must sound crazy but you have to believe me,” the knight begs.

“I do believe you…but I don’t understand,” the shorter man gets out. “What’s going on?”

Asahi shakes his head, meeting Nishinoya’s gaze again and lowering his arms to his sides. “I’m sorry, I can’t say.”

“Are you staying at the castle?” He tries instead.

A pause. Asahi can’t resist. “No.”

“Where are you-“

“Nishinoya, please. I’ve already said too much,” Asahi urges.

He looks down in surprise as Nishinoya grabs his cloak at his chest and pulls him forward. “Please! At least tell me how long you’ll be gone!”

The strain in his voice cracks Asahi’s resolve. Fragility is foreign to someone like Nishinoya. “I-I don’t know,” Asahi murmurs. “I’m sorry, I wish I had an answer.”

Nishinoya’s hands relax and he turns his head to the side solemnly, jaw clenched and remaining silent.

“I wasn’t supposed to come to meet you, but I couldn’t leave without telling you,” Asahi reveals. “It just-it didn’t feel right.”

Nishinoya’s eyes lock with his, the tension falling from his features. “Asahi…”

Asahi takes a step backwards, letting his hands fall to his sides. “I have to go now,” he says.

Nishinoya steps forward again, springing back to life with something fierce behind his eyes. “Wait! Before you leave,” he turns around, dashing towards one of the tables and grabbing a sheathed sword. He brings it to Asahi, holding it out for him. “It’s the one I showed you the last time you were here.”

The knight observes it unsurely and Nishinoya inches forward, insisting. “Please, I'll feel better knowing you have a strong weapon to keep you safe.”

Asahi swallows thickly, reaching down for it. “I-thank you.”

“And- one more thing!” Nishinoya bursts out, approaching and placing his hands upon Asahi’s shoulders as he was moments ago. They both stare at each other, trying to make the few seconds last hours. Nishinoya raises himself on the balls of his feet and kisses Asahi gently. It’s over quicker than it begins and Asahi stares down at Nishinoya, not trusting his ability to form words.

“Stay safe. Take care of the Prince,” Nishinoya murmurs. Reluctancy is back in his eyes and Asahi still doesn’t like it. He decides to do something about it this time, leaning down to reciprocate the action and pressing his lips to Nishinoya’s.

“I will,” Asahi breathes out as he pulls back. He turns around and walks back to the door, pausing to glance over his shoulder glances over his shoulder again, before exiting the smith shop. Nishinoya gives him a small, sad smile. Asahi wants to run back inside and kiss him until his head is light, but knows he can’t.

* * *

Hinata has been sitting in the council room for hours now, but he has no desire to leave. Both Oikawa and Kenma sit in their usual spots at either side of him, neither having said anything for a while. There’s not much to at the moment. The three of them have already discussed and gone over plans for escape. Now with Asahi out and getting last minute preparations ready, all they have to do is wait.

It’s awful.

“Shouyou, you would probably benefit from sleeping for a bit before we depart,” Kenma points out.

Hinata doesn’t respond at first, keeping his uncovered eye trained on the table. Kenma did his best to heal him as soon as he was summoned to examine the Prince, but the wound must be bad seeing as he’s been instructed to wear the eyepatch for the time being. Hinata has to wonder if this means he’s never going to see again. He asked Kenma and was informed it is a possibility.

Instead of speaking, Hinata simply shakes his head back and forth; a silent denial. He misses the flick of Kenma’s eyes meeting Oikawa’s, but he hears the exhale to his right. “You don’t have to sleep in your room if that’s the issue,” Oikawa says.

“I can’t sleep. Not now,” Hinata replies quietly. “When we’re gone, maybe.”

“It will be hours until then. You can sleep in here if you’d like,” Oikawa continues.

The Prince shakes his head. Another silence befalls the three.

“You’re scared,” Kenma muses.

Hinata turns his head to meet his best friend’s eyes and struggles to speak as his throat starts tightening. He settles for a nod this time.

“You have nothing to worry about with us around, Shouyou,” Kenma explains. “The assassin has been detained and won’t get another chance to lay a finger on you.”

“Maybe not him, but what about the others? He was one of my men,” Hinata counters, his voice unsteady. “How many more are out there trying to kill me?”

He watches Kenma resign himself to silence. It's his way of accepting defeat on that note.

“I’ll tell you something, Chibi-chan,” Oikawa says lightly. Hinata’s glazed over eye travels to him. “We’re all scared right now. You, me, Azumane, even Kenma, ever the cool kitty is worried.”

He says he’s worried, but Hinata doesn’t think Oikawa sounds frightened. Hinata glances back to Kenma, who wears a dissatisfied frown. Nevertheless, his sighs and nods in agreement.

“Fear makes us do things instinctively, without thinking about it. It’s a good motivator in short term situations, but if you feed it for too long it starts to mess with your judgement. Makes it harder for you to look at things objectively and you start to think irrationally, you know? It’s not good on your head to stay like that for long.” He says, tapping his temple.

“I didn’t like it. The fear I felt,” Hinata replies, breaking eye contact. A flash of the man swinging the knife towards him unwarrantedly appears in his mind. “After my eye was slashed, I had this overwhelming response and I thought I was completely helpless. There was no chance of survival.”

Oikawa sips his wine. “Well, no one likes it really. Maybe the ones with a few screws loose, but the feeling of kill or be killed isn’t exactly a warm one. It’s crucial if you want to live though,” he muses, swirling the cup gently. “And you weren’t helpless, you fought him off all on your own after all,” he adds.

“Right,” Hinata replies softly, resuming to staring back at the table. Minutes pass and he speaks again, placing a hand over his patched eye. “It’s um, it’s just I keep replaying it over in my head and that fear keeps coming back to me.”

“You’ve been under a lot of stress,” Kenma chips in. “A little rest may go a long way.”

The Prince remains silent for another minute or two before nodding. “Okay. I’d prefer to sleep in a bed, but not in my room,” he requests. “And with both of you present.”

“Of course Shouyou,” Kenma answers with a nod and standing. “I’ll see to it right away.”


	8. A Change in the Current

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back!!! hope y'all are doing good.
> 
> Enjoy a new chapter!

Gulls crying faintly in the distance is what pulls Daichi from sleep. For a moment, he’s brought back to his younger self; to the days before he met Sugawara and the others and left home. He gets a flash of the seas, standing knee deep in the waters and pushing his father’s fishing boat out. The smell of salt heavy in the air, but at the time Daichi was so used to it he forgot the scent completely. Now it’s strong and nostalgic. Wings flap and he looks overhead, shielding his eyes from the sun and watching the gulls flying about.

All these things flash through his mind in the span of seconds until he realizes it’s nothing but a memory and he’s regaining consciousness in the small inn off the coast of the town. Daichi stares blankly at the ceiling for a couple moments and his head turns to his right at the empty space that has never felt so unwelcome. He rises with a yawn. Daichi glances at the closed window blearily, standing and popping his arms over his head with a stretch. He walks over to it and unlatches the sill, pushing the wooden panels open. The sun is half over the horizon on the east coast, already bleeding from deep orange-red hues into the blue skies.

No, it’s not his old home. But it sure does feel like it in some ways. Daichi has a view of the docks and can already see groups of men working to get their ships ready. There are at least fifty different boats, ranging from small fishing ones to a handful of medium and a couple larger ones which would take a crew to run. The men at work are loud and boisterous despite the early hour, chatting with one another in their gruff voices. Some carry wooden crates filled with goods to be shipped to the smaller surrounding islands. Others haul large fishing nets onto their boats. Daichi figures fishing is how most of the gold is made in a town like this.

Bigger than his old home, but the familiarity remains. He thinks he should feel sad, maybe even a little fond recalling the similarities and yet, all Daichi continues to think about throughout his quiet observation is that his real home is travelling far north right now.

The shores washing in keep his attention awhile longer before Daichi gets changed and decides to walk along the docks. He stays out of the way of the men with ease, taking in the various ships anchored to the platforms. He catches a couple young guys working on attaching their sail to a small fishing boat that could hold no more than three men. Daichi approaches as they fumble with the cloth, offering to secure it for them after watching them struggle for about a minute.

“Thanks!” One says to as he accepts the sail. He can’t be older than fourteen. “You fish?”

Daichi shrugs. “It’s been awhile. You guys going to catch some food?”

“Yup,” the other replies. He appears a couple years older. “We’re opening our own stand in the market, so we gotta catch the good stuff before all these other guys.”

Daichi chuckles. “Right. Don’t want them getting all the good game.”

He looks down at their supplies. They have a small net which has seen better days, having been repaired with additional rope in several places. They have a hand net as well, and a small bucket of bait.

“Want some advice?” Daichi asks. The boys nod so he continues. “Don’t sail far out like these guys. If they’re going for the big guys like tuna or shark, there’s no point in doing the same. You’ve got the right equipment for mackerel, maybe a couple herrings. And you see those rocky passages over that way?” He asks, pointing far off onto a cliffside stretching a distance away. The boys nod again.

“You’re going to find great things there. Your boat is small enough to get through those areas. These guys’ ships would be toast if they tried to fish there,” Daichi explains, pointing a thumb behind him at the bigger boats.

“Wow!” The younger boy exclaims. He grabs his friend’s shoulders and shakes them. “We’re totally getting those fish! Come on, let’s put the sail up now!”

Another quiet laugh comes from Daichi and he steps off the boat. “Just be careful of any coral. It might rough your boat up.”

“Right right! Thanks so much!” The boy replies, waving a hand. “You’ve been a big help!”

Daichi waves a hand back. “Not a problem. Good luck,” he encourages.

He watches them raise the sail. The boy turns to his friend excitedly as they take off. “Maybe if we do really well, we can try and sell to that rich guy at Aji Island!”

Daichi smiles fondly, but it drops a few seconds later.

“Wait!” Daichi yells frantically, though he knows they can’t do much to stop. Both of the boys turn to stare at him curiously. “Who’s the rich guy!?”

“No one’s really sure!” The older boy calls back. “He only got here days ago, but he’s already said to be the richest man around here!”

Not enough to really confirm anything, but it’s the biggest lead they’ve had this far. These kids have no reason to lie to him either. He nods and then starts back along the docks, trying to identify any ships sailing for Aji Island.

* * *

From a young age, Kuroo was promised lots of things. One of the earliest things he remembers being promised is that one day he would be adopted into a new family. Not his original, because they well, were gone (and it took Kuroo long to figure out what “gone” had really meant) but they would be just like them. He was promised they would take care of him, feed him and love him as his previous family did.

Shortly after he turned five, a group of men in dark, hooded robes showed up to the not-home. Kuroo often got in trouble for referring to the orphanage in such a way, though retribution or discipline never seemed to scare him even as a child. Oddly enough, Kuroo felt an instinctive fear towards the men the way one feels nervous teetering over the edge of a tall cliff. There was a presence to the men, and it was not welcoming.

Still, they were brought in and one of the men dropped his hood to reveal on old face. He looked old like Kuroo’s grandfather, but much meaner. He spoke quietly with the caregiver and Kuroo stood up from the foot of his bed, all desire to continue playing with his old, torn toy cat lost in a moment’s warning. He ran outside to play with the other kids, missing the pointed gazes following his back.

Within the hour the caretaker had come to him and told Kuroo he was being adopted by the old man. Kuroo frowned and said he didn’t want to go with the strange group. She smiled thinly and said he would be going to a family, just like she promised him. Kuroo firmly denied those men were like his original family.

His small bag of belongings was packed into a carriage not twenty minutes later.

Kuroo rode with the group of men, listening to the one with his hood down (he was the only one to keep it down the entire time) explain he possessed a great power. He would learn to develop it at a place called the Institute for Dark Magic, with other children who held natural power like himself. He would be fed three times a day, given new clothes and was promised to be taken care of.

He took all this information in without saying a word the entire time. In fact, Kuroo didn’t speak for the first seven days of living at what he would come to know as a prison. He was beaten for not showing respect to the mages, refused food if he didn’t get his spells correct, threatened with testing if he refused to cooperate. Kuroo hated those the most. Especially the blood extractions.

When he did start to speak and learn his spells and cooperate, he was still put through hardship. And through this, a resentment grew within Kuroo. At eight years old, he was the strongest of the group of children and he knew it. But he was also the most rebellious. The most outspoken. The most beaten. The mages were endlessly enraged by his behaviour, but they kept him for his raw talent and Kuroo knew it back then. At their wits end, the mages brought him into a secret meeting and promised him independence from the school if he behaved until he was sixteen and could graduate from the Institute.

Kuroo was naïve enough to take the bait of the promise despite having been lied to many other times, dreaming of freedom from behind the locked door of his small room all the way into his teen years.

A month before he turned sixteen, Kuroo was hiding in the library past curfew, reading a forbidden tome and overhead two mages entering. Hiding himself easily, Kuroo heard one asking who they thought would be sent to the Kingdom. The other replied he thought none of them were fit to serve the King. His interest piqued, Kuroo continued to eavesdrop. It didn't take him long to piece together what their words meant and a heavy sense of fear started hanging over him.

When one of the mages said they prayed Kuroo would be shipped off far outside of the province entirely, Kuroo nearly stumbled backwards into a shelf. He waited in a cold sweat for the mages to leave and fled back to his room quickly without a trace. Unable to sleep, Kuroo stayed up all night planning an escape. It took him a week to finalize and another to execute to get the timing perfect. The night of his escape, he killed two mages.

Kuroo was promised many things in life. A family, someone to care for him and freedom. And he came to learn that promises were no more meaningful than the distrustful people who made them. You aren’t guaranteed anything in life, no matter what people tell you. Kuroo learned the only one who could guarantee him anything was himself and he promised himself freedom from the Institute of Dark Magic. He fulfilled his own promise a week and a half before he was said to be shipped to Okinawa to serve some foreign Lord.

It’s been a long time since Kuroo has been chained to the Institute and yet, it’s hard to put the memories away tonight. He dreams of younger days. Of bruises and marks scattering his arms, the occasional scar from blood extractions. Of loneliness and pain and an unthinkable amount of rage festering inside one little boy.

He sits up sharply at the sound of the door opening hard enough to break the hinges. Kenma’s tome that was open and on top of his chest after having fallen asleep goes scattering to the ground with a few thumps. He looks up in shock at the loud intruder to see Daichi panting, gripping the door handle tightly.

“Get up. We have a ship to catch and it's not the one you got us,” he huffs out, rushing to Iwaizumi’s room next to wake him.

“Well good morning to you too sweetie,” Kuroo grumbles, rubbing a hand over his heavy eyes.

***

“You think going off the word of two kids is a wise idea?” Kuroo asks tiredly. It’s not meant to be a jab, rather an honest question. He strolls behind Daichi and Iwaizumi along the crowded docks. It reeks of fish and the smell is so strong it makes him want to gag.

“I thought the same at first, but wouldn’t the merchant be fairly wealthy if he was tied to the King?” Daichi asks.

Kuroo shrugs, already feeling warm in his dark robes in the morning sun. Ugh, if there’s one thing he’s dreading the most it’s today’s travel. He eyes a few boats they pass by wearily. “A fair assumption. But I bet there are lots of wealthy men throughout the land who would come to islands around here to set up private estates. Did the kids say where he came from?”

Daichi shakes his head from in front of him. “No, because apparently no one knows much about this guy. He moved to Aji Island recently. It fits with the given timeline too.”

“I think it’s enough worth investigating,” Iwaizumi suggests. “It’s better than anything we found out yesterday.”

“That’s not all. Wait until we get to the boat,” Daichi adds.

Kuroo raises an eyebrow and remains silent until they come to stop in front of one of the few larger boats. There’s about ten men loading it, walking up the boarding ramp with wooden crates. It’s already filled with dozens of them.

“I’m gonna need a bit more help, what does this prove?” Kuroo asks skeptically. He watches Daichi greet one of the crewmen with a loud yell, announcing they’re ready to board. The man looks over his shoulder, carrying a crate and studying Iwaizumi and Kuroo for a moment. He barks at them to quite dawdling and help finish loading the remaining crates so they can set off. Daichi gives Iwaizumi and Kuroo a bright grin.

“Have a peak inside one of the crates once we’re out to sea,” he murmurs, then walks towards the remaining crates and hauls one up. Iwaizumi shrugs and follows to do the same. Kuroo sighs, mumbling it’s way too early to be doing grunt work like this. Iwaizumi tells him to quit whining.

By the time they’re finished, Kuroo is wiping sweat from his face and leaning against a stack of crates, observing the crewman raise the boarding ramp with a vigilant gaze. He’s still tired, and now exhausted on top of dreading going out to sea. His stomach is already starting to become unsettled.

A hand claps on his shoulder, startling Kuroo. “Getting sick yet?” Iwaizumi asks.

Kuroo glowers. “This is a floating death trap.”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” the brunet replies. “It won’t be a long ride. We should be there by mid-afternoon.”

Kuroo turns his glower towards Iwaizumi. “That’s at least six hours,” he bites back.

“Sit down and keep a bucket nearby then,” Iwaizumi returns, strolling across the boat to chat with the captain of the ship.

Kuroo makes a face at the back of his head and reaches into his travel bag. Maybe he can distract himself with the tome for a bit.

It’s a wishful thought, but once the sail is up and the boat is drifting, Kuroo wraps his arms around his middle and is leaning over the edge of the boat, trying to keep his breakfast down. He can hear some of the crewmen whooping at him from behind. He’d curse them out if he wasn’t occupied by the nauseating feeling in his whole body.

“I hate sailing,” he groans to himself.

Several hours later he still feels the same way. Every direction is occupied by water. No land in sight. It’s a terrifying thought. He’s sitting on the ground, back against the crates and head between his knees. It’s the best position he can stay in without getting the immediate urge to vomit.

“Feeling any better?” Daichi asks, his footsteps stopping in front of Kuroo.

Kuroo looks up, a pinched smile on his face. “Peachy,” he mutters.

The brigand laughs, taking a seat next to him. “The crew has made bets on how many times you’ll puke before we land.”

“Oh that’s wonderful,” Kuroo returns. “Can I place my own too?”

“It shouldn’t be a few more hours. We’ve made good time,” Daichi returns obliviously. “Did you look inside any the crates?” He asks.

“No, haven’t really had the urge to snoop while hurling over the edge of the boat,” Kuroo explains tightly.

Daichi has gotten long used to this behaviour, still speaking calmly. “Most of it is furniture, jewellery and wine,” he explains. “But I also found things like this,” He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a dagger. He unsheathes it and rotates the knife in the sun. It gleams off the steel and Kuroo sees the small sun crest engraved near the base of the blade.

“The Kingdom’s sigil,” he murmurs in recognition. Daichi nods, sheathing the knife and tucking it away. “You think he stole this stuff?” Kuroo asks.

“Yea, there’s lots of other weapons and goods,” Daichi nods. “Iwaizumi wants us to help deliver the crates alongside the men when we arrive so we can get close to him.”

“Makes sense,” Kuroo says. “Then what-"

“All hands on deck!” A man yells out from across the boat. “We got company!”

Daichi and Kuroo share an alarmed look. Daichi springs up first, glancing at the man shouting. Kuroo stands with a little more trouble, pressing a hand to the crates to keep himself steady on his feet. The men are running around now, calling out confirmations as the captain calls out orders.

“There,” Daichi points over the sides of the boat. “In the distance. It’s another ship.”

Kuroo approaches the edge, squinting. It’s far, but he sees it. A ship sailing towards them.

“Pirates!” The man from the watch post yells.

“Change course, _now!_ ” The captain barks out.

Kuroo thinks he’s going to be sick again.

* * *

“It’s no good,” Daichi says quietly to Iwaizumi, clenching the rails of the boat tightly. “At this rate, they’re going to catch up to us. We have to deal with them somehow.”

Iwaizumi stares at the boat advancing and listens to the panicked screaming of the crewmen scurrying about. They don’t have any artillery on the boat, seeing as it’s not a warship. But the pirates do he guesses, and they’re going to get swamped if they don’t do something quick.

Iwaizumi turns back to Kuroo, who has his head between his knees. He approaches Kuroo, kneeling down and shaking his shoulders roughly to get him to raise his head.

“You need to do something,” Iwaizumi instructs.

Kuroo gives him a disbelieving look. “Like what exactly!?”

“Use magic. You have to take down the ship, or scare them off.”

“I’m supposed to make a magic canon and shoot balls at them or something?” Kuroo bites back. “Even if I could manage the concentration right now, there’s no way-"

Iwaizumi grabs him by the collar, hauling him up to his feet. “You’re the only range fighter right now. You think this ship is gonna hold up if they fire ballistae or harpoons!?” He asks. “Give us a shield, or attack them with whatever you can. Anything you can do!”

Kuroo pulls out of his grip with a rough movement, glaring and walking towards the edge of the boat where the ship is approaching. Iwaizumi watches the dark mage's elbows tuck into his sides with his hands spread out in front of himself and says nothing further. Less than thirty seconds later in a clean swipe, a large translucent barrier encircles the boat.

“Wh-what’s that?!” One of the crewmen shouts.

“It’s going to protect us, now get us back on track and fast!” Daichi commands. Some of the men glance from Daichi to the captain waiting for the nod and resetting their course.

Iwaizumi's attention draws back to Kuroo. “They're too far away. They have to be closer if I want to do anything worthwhile,” he says, eyes remaining closed in concentration.

“We’ll take what we can get right now. Whatever you do, make it count,” Iwaizumi encourages. He’s sure Kuroo also senses the urgency behind his words. The dark mage has already fallen back into concentration, a relaxed expression on his face as if he’s meditating. His arms are outstretched again and black magic begins concentrating between his hands.

Their boat starts turning and the tailwinds give them an immediate burst of speed. Iwaizumi can already see figures of the men on the enemy ship and what seems to be some kind of ballista at the head of it. He curses quietly in recognition as the iron bolt is fired towards their boat. It crashes into the barrier with a metallic ringing, deflecting off to the side and sinking into the sea. Iwaizumi’s notices the bolt starting to get reeled back in by its chain.

Daichi points upward silently. Iwaizumi follows, sees the cracks in the barrier from where the ballista shot at. It’s still in tact, but holds countless cracks like glass that has shattered but kept it's form. One more bolt fired and it would definitely pierce through and into this wooden ship with ease.

They’re at the mercy of Kuroo at this point. He’s their only hope of not getting tanked. More dark magic is summoned, gathering over his arms and beginning trail upwards over their heads in a concentrated cloud-like structure. Iwaizumi has never seen the dark mage do anything like this, wondering what he’s planning to do.

The bolt is raised out of the water by its chain, clunking off the pirate's boat and getting prepared to be loaded again. Iwaizumi guesses it will be ready to fire in under another minute. He knows better than to speak and risk breaking Kuroo’s concentration, but they could really use something right about now!

Kuroo’s hands tighten into fists. The black magic dissipates all at once. Iwaizumi and a few others blink unsurely overhead of themselves. He hears one of the pirates yelling to aim.

The magic reappears all around the pirate’s ship in countless black spikes. Kuroo flicks his wrists and within a second every one of the spikes fire at the ship. The crashing sounds of wood splitting erupt amongst the chaos. The ballista is shot not a second before being destroyed by the magic, and Iwaizumi throws himself to the deck along with the rest of the crew. He hears the sound of the barrier shattering and sees the magic fading away, but the boat is not swayed at all from the impact.

“It’s okay- we’re okay now,” Kuroo says breathlessly, dropping his arms to his sides. He’s panting and Iwaizumi is already back on his feet, reaching out to catch him when Kuroo’s legs give out.

Daichi stands at the edge of the ship, staring with wide eyes at the scene in front of him. This ship is completely destroyed into pieces. If you were to only have seen the aftermath, you'd never know it was a boat to begin with. Wooden chunks are clustered together and the sail floats uselessly in the sea. Some of the pirates are clinging to the remaining pieces of the boat like a lifeline.

He turns to look at Kuroo, the goosebumps on his arms not going away. “Incredible.”

* * *

Oikawa rises first among them. It’s only day two and he’s already sick of everyone’s faces. He’s sick of dressing in these tacky commoner outfits. He’s sick of having to share a one-room house in the slums with three other men. He didn’t think the cabin fever would hit him so hard, so quick, but being confined in the poorest part of the west city is proving to be a challenge for Oikawa to overcome yet. Privacy is a word that belonged to what he’s now referring to as “the good life”- back at the castle. He’s already bored himself of books and trying to get a rouse out of the others the way a cat taunts its prey. He doesn’t want to play anymore games of chess with Kenma and he is sick of watching Hinata trying to practice training without any weapons. Azumane isn’t bad at least, but he’s so plain.

The worst part of it all though? He already finished the wine he brought to their hideout, which wasn’t much to begin with.

They’re not allowed to leave the house under any circumstances, lest they get spotted. Judging by how quiet things have been in the city, Hinata’s disappearance hasn’t been noticed, but there’s no risks being taken. They’re already prolonging the inevitable at this point.

Asahi is going to gather more food tonight, but it’s by himself and he’s planned not to be gone long. Still, Oikawa finds himself envious, wanting to be the one to step foot out of this stale-smelling, shithole of a house. He finds it hard to believe living like this is enjoyable for commoners in the slightest.

The second day passes slower than the first and Oikawa’s mood plummets lower with each hour ticking on. By mid-afternoon he has a permanent frown on his face, and sneers at anyone who looks in his direction. Hinata and Asahi are wary of him, whereas Kenma remains unphased. The quiet brunet hasn’t appeared to grow bored in the slightest throughout this isolation, which annoys Oikawa even further. The hermit.

Kenma notices Oikawa’s leering, raising his head from a book to meet his gaze calmly. “Is there a problem, Lord Oikawa?”

“Nope,” he says tightly. Still, he remains locked in the clashing stare.

Kenma doesn’t back down. “It seems like you have something to say.”

Hinata and Asahi are staring, nervously attentive without interfering. Probably for the wiser.

“Nothing at all, I assure you,” Oikawa replies, leaning his knuckles against his cheek from his position on an uncomfortable couch. His knees are brought to his chest as his back presses against the arm rest.

Kenma releases an exhale, paying attention to his book. “Then refrain from staring at me like that,” he requests.

Oikawa stands up, stretching his arms over his head and walking towards one of the closed windows. No opening it, it’s also apart of the rules. Wouldn’t want somebody spotting them in their terrible, dingy safe house after all. Fresh air isn’t worth the risk apparently.

A crease comes between his eyebrows. “Azumane, tell me your picking up wine tonight,” Oikawa pleads, though it comes out more of an order.

The knight’s anxious voice perks up behind him. “Oh- well. I’m sure I could find something to bring back.”

“Getting drunk is hardly a necessity right now,” Kenma interjects without looking up this time.

“It is in these circumstances,” Oikawa gripes back, his voice cutting hard.

Kenma closes the book, this time reserving his unwavering stare towards him. Oikawa glances over his shoulder and meets it without flinching, feeling his frustrations jump higher. It’s those cat eyes, boring like they’re plotting ways to slice you into thin pieces.

“Is drinking all you do?” Kenma asks icily.

Oikawa whips around completely. “You little shit,” He cracks unwarrantedly, voice sharpening and taking a couple steps forward.

Hinata jumps up from the small table he’s sitting at, waving his arms to get his attention. “Okay, okay! Let’s take it easy now. This obviously sucks way more than we thought it would. But we’re not going to be stuck like this forever, right? It’s only temporary. You guys said so.”

Oikawa hates the patronizing undertones, but it gets some of the anger off his shoulders and he tilts his chin up to look away in resignation.

“Hinata’s right,” Asahi echoes. “I’ll get you wine tonight Lord Oikawa. Please be patient until then.”

Remaining silent, the advisor paces back to the couch, dropping down with a bounce and folding his arms over his chest. He curls into the back cushion so he’s not facing the others. Staring into the back of the dusty, gross couch cushion quickly becomes mind numbing so he forces himself to nap.

Surprisingly, he sleeps until dark. He wakes up with a dehydration headache and the rest of the room is quiet. Sitting up and wincing at the soreness in his neck and the dull pain in his right knee, Oikawa swings his legs to the ground, doing a head count and noticing a lack of Azumane. He must be making his run to get food then.

Hinata occupies the single bed in one of the corners of the room, sound asleep. Kenma is on the ground next to the bed with the pillow from Hinata's bed. Oikawa watches them for a few seconds, then he rises to his feet quietly only to have a fierce shot of pain fire up his knee. His lips part but he holds down the cry, forcing his weight onto his left leg and curling into himself for a few moments. Most nights he’s fine, but this is terrible. He’s stiff from being cramped in this cage!

Slowly, he starts limping towards the door. He lays a hand on the handle and unlatches it as quietly as he can without hesitation. The soft click sounds loud amongst the muted room, but there’s no movement or protesting voice from behind, so Oikawa swings the door open cleanly, already grateful for the difference in environment. Ah, how fresh air can become so noticeable after being trapped in a room for two days. Even if this area of houses is terrible to begin with, it’s a much-needed improvement from being stuffed inside.

As Oikawa is pulling the door closed, a resistance is met from the other side and the door swings back open. Hinata stands in the doorway, his mouth not quite in a frown, but close to it with his lips in straight line. He’s holding two robes in his arms.

Oikawa doesn’t say anything, even as Hinata steps out and closes the door quietly. He hands a robe to Oikawa and starts tying a bandanna to his head. Oikawa has to say, it’s quite the ensemble with the eye patch still on.

“Where are we going?” Hinata asks as Oikawa ties the cloak around himself.

“Anywhere away from here,” he answers quietly.

He sees a grin stretch on Hinata’s face. “I know just the place,” Hinata says, finishing tying his robe, pulling the hood up and starting down the alleyways of the quiet houses. Oikawa stares dumbly for a second or two before consequently trailing behind with a slight limp and pulling his hood over his head as well.

* * *

Asahi returns to the house with a sigh of relief. He’s surprised to see an oil lamp lit on the small table, with Kenma sitting as the only occupant. Asahi blinks, not catching Hinata and Oikawa, opening his mouth to ask where they are but Kenma beats him to it.

“It seems they went on a late-night adventure,” he fills in, staring down into a book.

“You-you didn’t try to stop them?” Asahi asks in disbelief, stepping forward towards the table.

“I’m not sure they would be interested in listening to my protests. Shouyou has been as restless as Oikawa, though not as bratty about it,” Kenma describes, closing his book and looking at Asahi. “Also, I was sleeping when they left.”

“This is bad Lord Kozume. We should go find them, right?”

“Did you encounter any guards while you were out?” Kenma counters.

Asahi shakes his head. “Well, no. That's the problem though, there was lots of trouble in the streets and the people knew guards weren't around. I saw houses being broken into,” he explains.

“Shouyou knows his way around the streets. He’s been sneaking out of the castle for at least a year now,” Kenma reasons, standing and walking to sit cross legged in front of the chess board on the ground. Asahi briefly wonders if he heard correctly, but also knows Kenma isn’t one to play jokes. The quiet man studies Asahi without saying anything further.

Asahi gets the hint, but he hesitates. Kenma could at least try to act worried that Hinata and Oikawa sneaking out is a terrible thing to do right now. Instead, focuses on the chess board. “I’m not very good,” Asahi forewarns.

Kenma shrugs, looking down at the pieces. “Neither is Shouyou. Bring the wine,” he requests.

Asahi raises an eyebrow, but obliges.

They’re still in the midst of their first game and Asahi is already feeling light-headed from the wine; he unintentionally admits to Kenma that he told Nishinoya they fled the castle. Alcohol has always been the catalyst in bringing out his honesty, for better or worse Asahi is uncertain.

Kenma is silent for a few seconds, focused on the chess board. “Why did you do it?” He asks, his voice more curious than angry.

Asahi isn’t expecting the question. “Well…um,” he hesitates.

Kenma lifts his eyes to examine the knight, intrigued. Asahi tries not to feel scrutinized.

“I couldn’t leave him without a warning. If it were me…I would be scared if he just up and left out of nowhere. And I asked him to go somewhere safe, because I didn’t want him getting hurt.”

Kenma moves his bishop. “Your honesty is refreshing, Azumane.”

“Huh?” Asahi asks dumbly, caught off guard a second time.

“Admitting something so vulnerable to me,” Kenma explains. “I’m not sure I understand the sentiment, but you must care deeply for Nishinoya to tell him.”

Asahi knows he’s flushing red. “Uh, well I- yes,” he admits. “He’s important to me.”

“I hope you can also appreciate how important it is we don’t compromise Shouyou’s safety. By spreading the information, you put us at risk,” Kenma adds.

His words cut into Asahi. “Nishinoya would never-" he instinctively protests.

“Nobody thought the King’s advisor and his men would conspire to kill him and yet, here we are,” he reminds.

“I-,” Asahi stops. He hates to admit it, because he knows Nishinoya cares for Hinata like they’re brothers. But he knows he’s at fault. “You’re right Lord Kozume. I apologize. My actions were reckless.”

“They were,” Kenma agrees.

Asahi regards the chess board with a frown. “I’ll gladly accept any punishment necessary.”

“I have no interest nor gain in inflicting punishment,” Kenma replies, boredom in his tone. He takes a sip of wine from the bottle while Asahi remains reserved, a guilty frown on his face.

“Besides, Nishinoya has his own role to fulfil in this,” Kenma slips up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hands sloppily when some of the wine spills from the corner of his mouth. His face has a slight flush to it.

Asahi glances at Kenma, confusion written across his face. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Kenma brushes it off. “All in due time Azumane. Now please, focus on the game.”

* * *

Hinata cheers loudly along with the rest of the crowd as the loser goes down in a stiff movement, caught up in the buzz of the excitement in the arena. He’s at most peace since everything started happening oddly enough, grinning at the winner who raises his sword triumphantly at the crowd to incite another round of whooping and hollering.

He turns to say something about the next contender to Oikawa, but his smile falls at the pinched look on his advisor’s face.

“What? You didn’t want him to win that one?” Hinata asks.

Oikawa sighs, arms crossed. “No. I’m trying to figure out how anyone can find this ‘relaxing’,” he mutters. Hinata has noticed his gaze shifting among the crowd periodically. He seems paranoid. It’s been that way since they stepped foot into the fighting pits. Oikawa was even less impressed as they ran into Kouji for a brief moment, before Hinata was dragged off by his advisor after being asked about his eye. He plastered on his charming smile and explained they were going to find a different spot to watch the fights.

Hinata raised a frustrated protest at first, but Oikawa explained that nobody should remember they were here tonight and the Prince had to agree, though it was with a sulk. He's over it by now, feeding off the crowd around him. Hinata waves a hand dismissively at Oikawa. “Come on, I know you’re kind of into it. You’ve been watching every match intently!” He says matter-of-factly.

Oikawa scoffs. “Isn’t that the point of coming to these things?” He returns.

“Exactly! It’s how I learn new fighting techniques. I bet you used to fight as good as some of these guys, huh?” Hinata asks, bumping him playfully.

Still unwavering, Oikawa rolls his eyes. “As if you’d put me in the same bracket as these brutes,” he returns icily. “They’re all amateurs.”

Hinata takes the last piece and runs with it, his voice raising in encouragement. “Hey, all right! I think you’ll be impressed with the reigning champ though. He’s something else.”

Oikawa gives a small smirk. Hinata recognizes it to be the one he uses when Oikawa is trying to get into your head and mess with you. “The one your little bounty hunter boy beat?” Oikawa taunts.

The Prince’s eyebrow arches. “My…little?” He repeats slow and uncertain.

The smirk falls and Oikawa shakes his head, saying something which gets lost under the cheers of the crowd. Hinata shrugs, returning to observe the start of the next match. Him and Oikawa don’t exchange much during the next fight, but he’s still confident his advisor is beginning to enjoy himself. Hinata hears him yelling out in praise during the semi-final match and can’t help turning to grin at Oikawa once the round is finished. Oikawa snuffs up and says the match was the first to be considered somewhat entertaining.

Ushijima steps out into the ring and the cheering reaches a new peak, echoing throughout the pit. He doesn’t bother addressing the crowd, simply stepping forward to face the contender with a stoic expression on his face and drawing his sword.

Oikawa has a calculated look in his eyes and the makes of a snarl curling the side of his mouth. “Tch. He’s got quite the strict act,” he comments.

Hinata grins and promises him the previous match will be nothing compared to this.

* * *

True enough, they’re walking back to the safe house after the fight and Oikawa is still chatting about it. The contender who was winning throughout the ranks wasn’t necessarily a bad fighter. More like, that brute Ushijima held the power of ten men in one body. “And that twig beat him recently?” He reiterates doubtfully while they’re walking down a street with a few drunk men stumbling about. There's been a few fights they've encountered on their way back and each time Hinata has rerouted them down different streets to remain hidden from the commotion. It makes Oikawa wonder how often he's come to the fighting pits to know the area so well.

“Kageyama is not a twig!” Hinata protests, a defensive behaviour coming out. “And yes, I saw the match,” he confirms.

Oikawa scoffs a laugh, not bothering to try and touch the subject again. “That Ushijima pissed me off. I’d have liked to see him taken down by the bratty bounty hunter. Better yet, the meathead, Iwa-chan!” He suggests.

“Oikawa, is there _anyone_ you like?” Hinata asks lightheartedly with a laugh, but Oikawa certainly doesn't take it such a way. The silence brought upon by the question makes him uncomfortable, which isn’t a territory he usually lives in.

“I don’t like men who fight for gold, be it mercenaries or tournament fighters,” the advisor replies tightly, though he instantly regrets the words. He decides to brush it off. “Let’s leave it there, yea?”

“Oh, sure.” Hinata says, falling silent. But now he’s intrigued, and looking for answers judging by the fact that not a minute later, he glances at Oikawa and continues prying. “Is it because you think they can’t be trusted by having such flimsy morals?” He asks.

“Sure, why not,” Oikawa agrees absentmindedly instead of giving any actual input, trying to slip cheerfulness back into his tone but clearly not very hard.

Hinata breezes by it. “I can see why you’d think that, like a lot of other people do. But recently I’ve learned anyone can have flimsy morals despite what they do for gold.”

Oikawa sighs and shakes his head, tired of the conversation. “Philosophies aside, I’m less likely to trust the hired assassin over the knight.”

“I’d choose the one who proves loyal,” Hinata replies. “The one who has earned my trust.”

Oikawa opens his mouth and then shuts it, having no witty remarks laced with insults to say in response. He stares at the ground as they walk, wondering when Hinata decided to grow up and start acting like an adult.

Shortly later, the pair passes by a large, well-lit building standing out among the rest of the dark ones. Oikawa pauses, his attention caught. He takes a few moments to observe the building while Hinata’s footsteps backtrack to stand next to him.

“What’s this place?” The Prince asks curiously. “I think I hear music coming from inside.”

Oikawa feels an impish grin take the corner of his mouth. “A place where people would eat you right up, Chibi-chan. Mind if we make a quick stop? I want to see something.”

Hinata squints unsurely, but ends up settling with a nod. “Sure, I guess. We’re already out anyway.”

The grin extends itself and Oikawa has his hand wrapped around the Prince’s wrist, all but dragging him inside. He takes in the instant flush and wide eyes on Hinata has once they’ve stepped past the entrance and Oikawa can’t help snickering behind a hand. Almost as entertaining as Iwa-chan’s reaction, he thinks to himself.

“Wha-what- _why_ are we here!?” Hinata sputters towards him, taking in the room full of partially and fully undressed women.

Oikawa pats him on the shoulder without a word in response, stepping towards an unoccupied girl on a couch. As far as he’s concerned, none of the women here are up to his usual standards. Not that he expected much in such a run-down part of the city. This girl isn’t horrible to look at though. She’s young, with doe eyes that crinkle when she smiles at his approach.

“My, you’re a cute one,” she coos. He stops in front of the couch she lies on and she sits up. “Can I get you some wine?”

Oh, how Oikawa wants to indulge, especially since it’s dangling above his head in reach. He could down several cups in a matter of minutes and have his way with her quicker than it would take Hinata to stop gawking uselessly at everything around the room. The thought is tempting enough to make him hesitate before smiling pleasantly. “How I would love to, but I’m afraid I don’t have the time.”

The girl’s smile loses a bit of it's spark. “Oh? What do you have time for then?”

Oikawa gestures towards the couch. “May I?” He asks, and she shifts so he can settle close to her, reaching a hand to smooth some of her hair away from her neck. Her smile returns and she leans into his touch. Funny, how he feels at though he's trying to court the girl in a place like this.

“I’m here to get in touch with a friend. She runs at an establishment like this, but in the east streets.”

***

They finally make it back to the safe house in the early hours of the morning. Oikawa is horrified to discover that Kenma and Azumane drank all the wine as punishment for leaving the house. He almost tears up staring at the empty bottles while Kenma drunkenly criticizes them for leaving, the lush.

* * *

The next morning, an announcement from the castle makes quick news throughout the entire city:

The King has been murdered and the Prince has been kidnapped.


	9. The First

About the same time Oikawa was going down for his nap the previous day, Iwaizumi was setting a crate down inside of one of the few manors located on Aji Island. He’s been taking mental notes about the place while hauling crate after crate into various rooms, noticing a distinct lack of servants, or any sort of house staff. No family either, by the looks of it. If the captain hadn’t told them the Lord was residing in the estate, Iwaizumi would have assumed the place is empty. It makes him think the suspected fugitive is all the more suspicious, and Iwaizumi wonders if the man is purposely hiding himself away.

This assumption however, is overthrown when an unfamiliar man approaches Iwaizumi as he’s stepping outside to grab another crate from the ship.

“Are you the one who saved my belongings from pirates?” The man asks, cutting straight to the chase.

Iwaizumi meets his gaze. The man is older, probably in his late fifties. He’s dressed in dark slacks and a loosely fitted tunic. Doesn’t exactly stand out as ‘wealthy’, but Iwaizumi answers politely anyway. “No, that would be my friend Kuroo.”

“Oh? And where might your friend be amongst these men?” The man asks, clearly interested. “I owe him my thanks.”

“He’s resting on the ship. The journey here was tough on him,” Iwaizumi answers carefully.

The man’s arms fold behind his back, while a faint smile comes to his face. “I can only imagine. Say, would you extend a message towards, Kuroo was it?” He checks.

Iwaizumi nods, and the man continues. “I’d like to treat him to dinner. I’m afraid I haven’t got much of a staff at the moment, but I can make a great curry if I say so myself. Of course, you’d be welcome to join us as well…” the man trails off.

“Iwaizumi,” he fills in.

“Iwaizumi,” the man repeats, like he’s attempting to recall the name. His eyes drop low and he offers a smile.

“I have to say you stand out from the rest of the men,” he says, gesturing to the knife sheathed on Iwaizumi’s belt. “You’re a fighter?”

Iwaizumi shrugs. “Something of the sort.”

The man seems to be unimpressed with the answer, tutting distastefully. “And yet your skills are being used for deliveries,” he comments.

Again, he plays the comment off. “Haven’t had any jobs recently and I needed the extra coin,” Iwaizumi says.

Something lights up in the man’s eyes at Iwaizumi’s words. It sends another uncomfortable feeling inside him.

“Hm, Iwaizumi. Perhaps it’s your lucky day to come across this island.”

He doesn't get a chance to ask why that is. The man introduces himself and it's an unfamiliar name to Iwaizumi, before excusing himself back into the manor. It doesn’t match the name Hinata gave them, but an alias is to be expected. And based off gut reaction alone, Iwaizumi does not like this guy one bit. He returns to the boat, already thinking up a plan.

***

“Why do you insist on continuously torturing me?”

“Would you quit your yapping?” Iwaizumi retorts, leaning against a tree with his arms crossed and watching Kuroo drop onto the sand with his head hung low in protest. Daichi stands a few feet away, eyes trained across the sea. All of the crates have all been loaded off the ship and Iwaizumi decided to have an impromptu meeting at the shore while they have the time alone.

“It’s only a dinner,” Iwaizumi iterates. “The first real meal you’ll have eaten since we left the castle.”

“Don’t try and taunt me with food. I’m not an animal like you two,” Kuroo says, looking up with an irked expression. “I’ll do it, but I won’t be happy.”

Iwaizumi figures it's the best as he’s going to get and takes it with a nod.

“What’s the plan after dinner?” Daichi finally asks, the first thing he’s said so far.

“He said there’s no other staff in the house, so it’s safe to say we'll have the place to ourselves. We stall till sundown, then capture him. I think he might want to try and hire us for something so we have a good cover,” Iwaizumi pauses. “There’s just one thing."

"What's that?" Daichi prods.

Iwaizumi frowns. "I have no idea how we’re getting off this island. Captain said they’re leaving back for Matsushima within the hour.”

A thoughtful expression crosses Daichi's face. “Leave the travelling situation to me,” he offers. “I’ll find something.”

* * *

At the time Iwaizumi and Kuroo were having dinner, Yamaguchi was closing the door to a stall and locking it behind himself. Chores kept him busier than normal this afternoon with the guards conducting a random search of the stables, going so far as to check every individual stall for something Yamaguchi still hasn’t figured out. The horses were not impressed by all the commotion and roughhousing from the guards; neither was Yamaguchi quite truthfully. Watching the way the men essentially raided the stables and trashed everything was hard to observe from the sidelines quietly. After all the ‘searching’ was completed and the group of guards left without the bat of an eye towards the mess they created, Yamaguchi spent hours cleaning and calming the horses down. It’s passed dinner at this point, and he’s lucky if he’ll get to grab any leftovers from the kitchen.

Yamaguchi looks up to the sound of the barn door opening and prickles up instantly at the guard’s uniform, thinking for a moment maybe they’re here to do another search for some absurd reason. Though under further observation, Yamaguchi comes to realize it's only one guard and the tall figure removing his helmet is familiar. 

“Tsukki?” Yamaguchi asks with a release of breath. A large bout of the tension leaves his shoulders. “What are you doing here?”

Funny, he said the same thing a few days prior when Tsukishima had showed up at dawn to the stables. Yamaguchi brought loosely-balled fists to his eyes to rub and make sure he wasn’t making this up, only to have Tsukishima cross his arms and remind him of their deal.

It wasn’t so much of a deal as it was a favour. You see, the day Yamaguchi intercepted the confrontation at the gate, Tsukishima showed up to the stables as he said he would following his meeting with Kenma. He claimed he needed to learn how to ride a horse, and as quickly as possible.

Yamaguchi wore a confused expression which Tsukishima observed passively. When asked why, the taller man wouldn’t answer. When asked how he would get into the castle, Tsukishima simply reasoned he’d find a way in. And before he could prod further, or accept the request for that matter, Tsukishima explained he would find Yamaguchi at sunrise the next day and left.

And he sure did, by the luck of having the guard’s uniform- which Yamaguchi still hasn’t exactly figured out how he managed to get a hold of, and playing the part well. The intimidating nature he possessed naturally made him believable as a castle guard. Yamaguchi had a suspicion Tsukishima would give him a sour look if he praised him in such a way, but the thought stood regardless and he laughed to himself thinking about it. He ended up getting a skeptical glance from Tsukishima.

The riding lessons occurred early, which Yamaguchi held no issue with considering his normal routine involved waking at quiet hours to begin with. It seemed a little tougher on Tsukishima, who remained clipped and stiff throughout most of their lessons. He caught on to lessons quick though, and was already equipped with the basics.

“Yamaguchi,” Tsukishima’s greets, stepping towards him. “I need to borrow a horse.”

Yamaguchi blinks. He really doesn’t throw in any buffers, does he? Tsukishima remains neutral until the silence grows too long and he raises an eyebrow.

“Sorry Tsukki, I don’t understand,” Yamaguchi says with a sheepish tone. “We already had riding lessons today. Why do you need a horse?” He asks.

“I’m not here for lessons,” Tsukishima says plainly. “I’m leaving.”

A feeling similar to the one of being punched in the gut by the men who mugged him strikes Yamaguchi’s stomach. “You- what?” He struggles. He knows he heard correctly. Tsukishima knows too, judging by the annoyed look he’s receiving, so he tries again. “Where are you going?”

“Far,” Tsukishima answers.

Yamaguchi’s voice gets softer. “How far?”

“It’s none of your concern.”

But it is. It concerns Yamaguchi greatly, if you ask him. He knows better to keep prying at a door that won’t open, but the pain inside of him urges it anyway. He glances down at his feet. “How far, Tsukki?” He repeats.

“I said it’s-“

“I heard what you said!” Yamaguchi interrupts frustratedly, raising his head to glare at Tsukishima. “And it’s bullshit! You don’t tell me anything and expect me to sit back and be okay with it!? Come on Tsukki,” Yamaguchi pleads. “I'm just a stable boy, but even I know something is happening. There’s all kinds of talk around the castle about Prince Hinata. I know you didn’t beat some guard up, steal his uniform and risk getting imprisoned so you could learn to ride a horse for nothing. And I also know you’re not leaving for no reason! So please, tell me the truth!” He cries.

Tsukishima stares neutrally a breath or two while Yamaguchi recaptures his breath after the outburst. The taller man crosses his arms and focuses on roof of the barn with a frown. “I want you to come with me,” he finally admits.

Yamaguchi blinks. There's no way he could have predicted this. 

“Something is happening, and I don’t know what so stop looking at me like that,” Tsukishima snaps without meeting his eyes. Yamaguchi doesn’t really know how he can tell since he won’t meet his gaze, but apologizes quietly.

“These past days I’ve been patrolling the castle and snooping around. All I know for sure is there are people in the high ups trying to pull strings and it’s not good for the castle, maybe the whole city. There's talks of city raids starting soon,” Tsukishima explains. Finally, he meets Yamaguchi’s eyes. “I won't talk about the details here. But once we're out of the city, I'll give you a rundown. Come with me,” he insists.

Yamaguchi’s hand clenches and unclenches. All the confidence he held has left his body and disappeared into the air around him, to be replaced with uncertainty and confusion. He wants to say yes, so badly and yet…

Tsukishima notices the reluctance. “What is it?”

“I can’t,” Yamaguchi whispers.

Now Tsukishima wears a stunned expression, dropping his arms to his sides. Yamaguchi decides quickly it’s not a look he likes on the man.

“What happens if someone finds out I fled during lockdown?” Yamaguchi admits with a wince. It’s hard to watch the frown take over the surprise on Tsukishima’s face. “Won’t that make me suspicious? And what if something happens to my family? Shouldn’t I stay for them in case of trouble?”

“Something troubling could happen to you _here_ ,” Tsukishima argues back, like it should be an obvious rebuttal to all of these questions.

Yamaguchi shrugs a little defeatedly. “Like what, Tsukki?” He asks honestly.

Hostility fills Tsukishima's eyes. “Did you listen to a single word I said?”

“Yea, and so what?” Yamaguchi laughs, though nothing feels funny right now. “What does anyone in the high-ups want to do with a stable boy?”

Now Tsukishima is full on appalled, his eyes sharp and his frown deep. “Are you going to lend me a horse or not?” He asks, trying to challenge him.

 _He’s deflecting_ , Yamaguchi observes, biting his bottom lip. No, he doesn't want Tsukishima to do that to him. Especially if this is the last time he's going to see him for awhile. “Tsukki,” he tries.

“I need to go,” Tsukishima insists, but he doesn’t turn to walk away, or back up when Yamaguchi takes a step closer to him. He does give Yamaguchi the classic cold Tsukishima glare, though it’s not enough to deter him yet. Neither of them speak and Yamaguchi tests the waters further, slowly raising a hand to rest on the plates of armour covering his bicep. Tsukishima keep his gaze on him methodically, taking the action in without protest.

Yamaguchi keeps his head down in favour of meeting Tsukishima’s eyes. He’s already nervous as it is, but oddly enough, an unknown courage pushes him to speak. “I appreciate you caring about me," he murmurs. "You want me to be safe, right?”

A small sigh is released, followed by a hesitant, ‘yes’.

Yamaguchi smiles, leaning forward to rest his head gently his shoulder plate. The armour is cool against his skin. “I'm the same,” Yamaguchi admits. "I'll end up slowing you down if I go wherever-it-is with you. And it sounds pretty important."

In a strange way, he’s thankful Tsukishima is going to be travelling far. If things are going to get worse from here on out like he says, having him at the castle is a risk not worth taking. It’s a bit of an ironic thought all things considered, Yamaguchi knows.

Yamaguchi spares a glance upwards. The heat in Tsukishima’s eyes has faded, left with something much more vulnerable Yamaguchi is seeing for the first time. He catches Tsukishima swallowing nervously, then sighing almost exasperatedly. Yamaguchi parts his lips to ask what’s wrong, but Tsukishima leans in close and presses his own to Yamaguchi’s before he gets the chance.

“You better stay safe,” Tsukishima emphasizes in warning, pulling back. Yamaguchi's mind is about ten seconds behind reality. He watches Tsukishima, who is walking towards one of the stalls. It's the one with the horse he’s been practicing with during their lessons. Impulse takes over and Yamaguchi steps forward to grab Tsukishima’s arm and pull him back around, bridging the gap between them again. He places a hand on either side of Tsukishima’s face and pulls him close. He hears a small sound from Tsukishima, but the taller man accepts the hasty kiss after the initial surprise.

Limbs are quick to wrap around each other tightly and at some point, Yamaguchi is eased to step backwards until he meets a wall. Tsukishima presses himself close and all Yamaguchi can do is wish his armour was off so he could really touch him. He’ll just have to settle for the buzzing sensation in his head which grows stronger with each deep kiss. Yamaguchi is thankful he’s supported against something, lest his unsteady knees give out. He’s a little embarrassed Tsukishima imposes such feelings onto him, but not enough to care. How could he, when all Yamaguchi’s brain is processing is the way Tsukishima’s lips meet his own in open-mouthed kisses.

An unintended sound releases from Yamaguchi at the sensation of Tsukishima’s lips moving from his lips to the side of his jaw, then to his neck. The thrill is new and welcomed eagerly, loading his body with excitement and want.

“Tsukki,” Yamaguchi says breathily. Tsukishima’s tongue slips past his lips with each kiss on his neck.

"We don't have time for this," Tsukishima says, lips skimming the skin. His words are thin, Yamaguchi recognizes.

Yamaguchi sighs blissfully. "Then shouldn't you stop kissing me?" He asks.

He feels Tsukishima's lips curling as a kiss is placed with more pressure. "Probably," he says and yet, doesn't show signs of stopping.

They choose to fool around for a bit longer, but their time together is short, leaving Yamaguchi bittersweet as he watches Tsukishima mount Atticus outside of the stable.

Tsukishima gave Yamaguchi a look of disdain as he led him to a different stall and unlatched it to reveal Atticus instead of his practice horse. The steed snorted in greeting and Yamaguchi promised Tsukishima he's the best horse to take, quick to praise his strength, speed and stamina. Tsukishima listened, keeping a watchful eye on the horse while Yamaguchi talked. Unintentionally, Yamaguchi admitted he thought Atticus and Tsukishima were similar in some ways. Tsukishima scoffed loudly, but allowed the horse to be saddled up without protest.

They certainly make a striking pair, Yamaguchi thinks as he meets Tsukishima’s eyes and starts feeling remorseful. He never likes goodbyes.

“Don’t do anything stupid. Don’t trust anyone in here either, especially the one’s in charge,” Tsukishima says, interrupting his thoughts coolly. Yamaguchi nods.

“And maybe you’d like to know; I never beat a guard up for this.” Tsukishima says with a smirk, gesturing to his armour. “Kenma lent it to me.”

“Oh!” Yamaguchi recalls with a flush. “Well- I didn’t mean anything bad by it. When you come back, you can tell me everything and clear it all up, right?” He teases.

“Shut up, Yamaguchi.” Tsukishima says with his lips half curled up.

Yamaguchi can’t help smiling back, raising a hand to wave. “Sorry, Tsukki,” he answers routinely. “Promise me you’ll come back safe?” He asks hopefully.

He thinks he sees a flush of red on the man’s pale skin before he puts his helmet back on. “That’s naïve, Yamaguchi,” he criticizes, but as Tsukishima is trotting off, he glances over his shoulder. “I promise I’ll try.”

* * *

Dinner passes and later in the evening, Iwaizumi trails behind Kuroo and the suspect, eyeing the back of their heads unsurely. They’ve stalled long past sunset, and should have captured the man already. There hasn’t been a good enough opportunity to. Up until now.

As Iwaizumi predicted, the owner of the estate expressed his interest in hiring both Kuroo and himself for work. He claimed before he could truly extend the offer, he wanted to see their combat skills in action. Kuroo tried to insist he didn’t have the energy to fight, and the man explained if he could demonstrate a few spells, he would be satisfied. From Iwaizumi’s perspective, this seemed like no better opportunity.

And so, now as they walk towards the back of the estate where the courtyard is, the buildup to the capture is starting to make Iwaizumi antsy. Every footstep towards the door seems louder than it should, and he catches himself balling his fists tightly. Iwaizumi mentally chastises himself, wondering where this sudden bout of anxiety is coming from. It’s not the first time he’s had to capture someone, so there shouldn’t be anything to worry about.

Yet the feeling persists, even as Kuroo gives him a look which says ‘get ready’. He walks atop the stone platform in the courtyard, coming to a stop about halfway. The suspect stands beside Iwaizumi, hands folded behind his back and eyes settled on Kuroo.

“The crewmen said they’d never seen magic like his,” the man says to Iwaizumi.

Something in his tone bugs Iwaizumi. He keeps his eyes on the dark mage, not trusting himself to keep a calm face. Kuroo stands on the platform with his arms straight out in front of him. His fists are clenched loosely, his eyes closed peacefully.

“He’s powerful than most,” is all Iwaizumi says.

“So we shall see,” the suspect replies and after he speaks, Iwaizumi finally trusts his gut and knows something is off. 

Kuroo opens his eyes, his hands spread wide and a thin string of magic is shot towards the man's chest. The suspect doesn’t yell or scream, or give any reaction, simply watching as the magic touches his body and does nothing. Iwaizumi is startled by this feat too, unsure as to what's going on.

Kuroo's eyes hold disbelief. “What?”

“I’m afraid it’ll take more skill than a basic sleep spell to subdue me, young dark mage,” the man replies lowly.

Iwaizumi unsheathes his knife in a clean movement, making a swipe for the man. The suspect dodges back and counters with a spell of his own, launching a dark ball of magic towards Iwaizumi. He leaps out of the way to evade it, putting further distance between himself and the man.

“Who… who the hell are you!?” Kuroo bites, like a dog striking out of fear. Iwaizumi hears the alarm in his voice and thinks it’s so unlike him to react in such a way.

The suspect raises a hand to deflect the rod of dark magic Kuroo shoots at him with ease. The attack rebounds into the stone wall of the manor with a crash, leaving a deep impact in the structure. Iwaizumi has never seen anyone able to do such a thing to Kuroo’s magic. He takes a couple more steps backward.

“I’d like you to answer that question myself. But first,” the man pauses, flicking his wrist and returning a spell of his own towards Kuroo. Nothing visible presents itself, but Kuroo releases a sound of pain and nearly doubles over.

“Kuroo!” Iwaizumi yells, running atop the platform to stand in front of the dark mage, his knife held up defensively.

“What did you do to me!?” Kuroo cries out from behind Iwaizumi.

The man grins madly. “Your magic has been cut off. And now, you’re going to tell me who sent you before I kill you,” the man orders with a smug expression, his hand raised with a small swirling mass of magic around it. “Was it the Institute directly, or someone from the Kingdom?”

“Go find Daichi,” Iwaizumi mutters quietly. He doesn’t hear a protest and is thankful.

“What did you say!?” The man demands, the magic around his hand growing.

Iwaizumi readjusts the grip on his knife, fingers coiling around the hilt. “I said sorry to disappoint, but we don’t plan on dying today.”

Kuroo breaks into a run off to the side. As the man’s eyes flick to the movement and his arm follows Kuroo’s trajectory, Iwaizumi bolts forward. Faced with the decision to pick who to focus on, the suspect ultimately settles on Iwaizumi, who is close and ready to attack again. He casts another dark ball towards Iwaizumi and now that he knows what he’s up against, Iwaizumi is much more confident in fighting him.

The only other dark mage Iwaizumi has ever fought until now is Kuroo. Training with Kuroo doesn’t happen often either, mainly because Kuroo hates sparring, but Iwaizumi has successfully dragged him out of the fort on several accounts to get used to fighting mages. They’re a tough enemy at range, but get them in close combat and it’s relatively easy to subdue them. You take away their ability to concentrate on casting spells and force them into a panicked state of fight or flight. Kuroo never let himself get to that point easily during a spar.

In this case, Iwaizumi notices the man’s movements are slower compared to Kuroo. With this dark mage, it’s easier to anticipate the spells and avoid them. Once Iwaizumi is within attacking range, the man seems to realize he's losing the advantage. Iwaizumi brings his arm back and throws his knife forward, watching the man shout as he loses balance, trying to avoid the weapon. The man attempts to jump back and turn around to run, but Iwaizumi catches up to him with ease and knocks him out cold with a fist to the jaw.

After confirming he's down, Iwaizumi walks to retrieve the knife. He's in the process of hauling the man over his shoulder when Kuroo and Daichi approach from the side of the courtyard, running towards him. Seeing him up close and realizing he’s fine, they slow down and Iwaizumi sees Daichi has rope slung over his shoulder. They bind the fugitive's hands and feet, and the man remains unconscious as they retreat back to the shoreline.

“Did you find a boat?” Iwaizumi asks.

“Sure did,” Daichi replies. “It’s not as nice as our ride in though.”

Iwaizumi shakes his head. “Whatever. As long as it gets us back in one piece.”

They get to the beach without any qualms. The boat comes into view and Kuroo stops in his tracks. Iwaizumi and Daichi approach the rowboat stuck in the sand without a word and Iwaizumi drops the unconscious fugitive into the boat. He glimpses back to see Kuroo standing and staring with an unimpressed expression.

“No,” Kuroo says.

Iwaizumi puts his hands on his hips. “What do you mean, ‘no’?” He asks tiredly. He really won't put up with this right now. They’ve got to get a move on it.

Kuroo’s frown grows. “Exactly as it sounds. No. I’m not getting on that-“ he pauses, eyes leering to slits. “Floating pile of wood.”

“In retrospect, the ship we came on was just a floating pile of wood,” Daichi chimes in an unhelpful manner as be begins pushing the rowboat out into the water. Iwaizumi joins in to help. He glances over his shoulder and sees Kuroo remaining in the same spot.

“Kuroo, shut up and get in!” Iwaizumi calls.

“I’ll live out the rest of my days here on this island, thanks,” Kuroo calls back.

Iwaizumi scowls, glancing to Daichi. “You got anymore rope left?”

* * *

“Oi, can we take a quick rest? My legs are getting cramped up.”

Nishinoya yawns, tilting his head back while his eyes water and shoulders hunch up with the deep inhale. He releases the breath in a drawn-out manner and cranes his head over his shoulder to stare at Tanaka, who lays on his side in the wagon, head supported by a bent arm.

“We don’t have time to sit around and waste,” Nishinoya insists, then his eyes narrow. “And you have plenty space in there to stretch!” He tacks on with a little more heat.

And he knows Tanaka knows too. There’s enough room for a group of men in there, at least.

Tanaka yawns in similar fashion, stretching his limbs out and scratching at the side of his face. “Yea yea. Y’know, when you said we’d be travelling for something urgent, I expected it to be more exciting than this.”

Nishinoya glances in front of him again, adjusting his grip on the reins to the pair of horses puling the wagon. Up ahead, a small hole in the road grabs Nishinoya’s attention. Like a spark igniting into a flame, a devilish idea enters his head in the span of seconds. He starts veering to the side of the path ever so slightly.

“If things got ‘exciting’, your legs would be shaking like a newborn fawn,” Nishinoya insists, though part of him agrees. So far, travelling has been nothing but long and quiet. The side of his tongue pokes outs as he edges the wagon further. The small hole disappears from sight and Nishinoya frowns when they roll by it.

“They would not!” Tanaka denies fiercely from behind, sitting up.

Nishinoya turns his head to half-address Tanaka. “Ryuu, have you ever fought armed men before? It’s not quite the same as fighting drunk guys outside of taverns,” he reasons.

It’s not that Nishinoya doesn’t appreciate a good fight, and a good fight involving Tanaka, but you can get all sorts of people along paths like these. Nishinoya remembers the trips to the mines with his father as a child and recalls different altercations. One in particular sticks out- a time him, his father and the small group of miners were ambushed by a band of thieves. One of their men was killed while getting away.

So if he’s stuck between being bored with travelling, or having to relive something like that, Nishinoya can clearly pick the better option. If they were to encounter a group of men looking for a fight, well it wouldn’t exactly be in their favour.

“Hmph. Fighting with your fists is more honest if ya ask me,” Tanaka claims, crossing his arms over his chest and rolling to lay on his back.

Now Nishinoya notices a rock protruding from the path coming up. Again, he starts to ease the horse towards it. “Mhm,” he agrees absentmindedly. This time for sure!

“I knew you’d agree! Though you’re obsessed with swords, not even a smith himself-“

One of the wheels catches the rock and Tanaka is interrupted with a rough jerk, getting tossed a few inches in the air and back to the wooden platform with a rough thud.

“Noya, you shit! Watch where you’re riding!” Tanaka barks at him from behind.

Nishinoya smiles brightly at the morning sun, perhaps a little too optimistic all things considered. It’s the little things you have to appreciate in uncertain times though. “My bad!”

He does the same thing twenty minutes later and Tanaka tries to grab the reins off him.

* * *

In the midst of a dreamless sleep, Kenma is surrounded by silence. Or so he thought, until every couple of seconds he starts hearing low hums. He can’t tell which direction it’s coming from or what it is, but the vibrations become repetitive and start to irk Kenma. An itch of discomfort blooms behind the back of his eyes. Time starts to pass at an unknown speed and with its progression, the humming breeds itself into something louder and clearer.

With the alarming sounds echoing around him, Kenma’s stomach pinches tightly on itself. The feeling makes him wince- such an unpleasant pain, and in place of the discomfort behind in eyes, a vicious throbbing grows. High-pitched notes toll alongside the vibrations and every time the shrill of it reaches Kenma’s ears, he starts to tolerate it less and less. The pain in his head has grown substantially and every ring he hears is like a crude blow.

And when the pain reaches a threshold that becomes too jarring to ignore, Kenma finally snaps awake with a jolt. The headache does not disappear, nor does the unease in his stomach. Shouyou is the first to notice Kenma awakening, sitting at the small table with Asahi. Oikawa lays on his back atop the couch, his arms folded behind his head with a trained gaze to the ceiling.

None of them are speaking, but none of them have to. The city bells ring loudly and continuously, chiming in an unnerving declaration.

Kenma tries to hold himself together, but as he closes his eyes and takes a breath to steady his mind, the bells continue to taunt. Ringing loudly and without sign of letting up and finally, the last of Kenma’s resolves unhinges itself and he’s on his feet shakily, shuffling over to the window.

“Kenma?” Shouyou asks carefully, standing from his seat.

A strangled sound is the best response Kenma can manage. He unlatches the wooden panels with haste, flinging the window open just in time to lean out and retch up last night’s wine.

Oikawa makes an unnecessary comment which Kenma misses due to the loud sounds of the bells and himself vomiting, followed by Shouyou telling him to shut up. He pays none of it any mind, anyway. His eyes are scrunched shut to prevent himself from noticing the pile of waste beneath, knowing it will spark off another wave of sickness if he does.

Gentle hands gather his hair away from his face, and while normally reluctant to touch, Kenma silently accepts the aid. It takes time, but once his stomach has settled he gives himself a few moments to recapture his breath. Kenma’s skin burns uncomfortably warm, a sweat breaking behind his neck.

He looks over his shoulder, preparing to thank Shouyou then leers almost fearfully up at Oikawa. He’s got a rare expression on his face; something caught between calm and terror in his dark eyes. Oikawa isn’t paying attention to him, gaze fixated at what lies beyond the window. Kenma turns his head back and reluctantly does the same.

The west side of the slums sit in a lower plot of land compared to the rest of the city. Quite literally, it’s a region meant for the lowest of lows to live. Ironically enough, it gives a rather pleasant view of the city. To the north, you have a clear view of the side of the castle, standing tall among the neighbouring houses owned by High Lords outside its walls. To the south, lavish buildings like the cathedral and the opera house stand grand, crafted on high pillars and ceilings so tall you’d have to crane your neck up to view the ceiling inside. The tops of the central square buildings are visible towards the center of town and behind it, lay countless numbers of houses of those residing in the east side. How insulting it must be to live in such a clearly deficient region of the city and be flaunted with an overt image of luxury in front of you like this.

Yes in a sort of twisted way, from where they reside they possess the best view of the city. And because of that, Kenma finally sees the utter chaos with clarity. Multiple smoke trails stemming from pockets all over the city. Buildings destroyed down into rubble of stone or wood. There’s a building on fire Kenma can see clearly a few streets away from their safe house, collapsing in on itself with a final crash.

Oikawa whispers a string of curses behind him. Not seconds pass and Kenma lowers his head to throw up again.

* * *

Sugawara lifts shaky, blood covered hands from the freshly closed wound. The large gash in the side of the man is healed, but the patched together skin is translucent and pink, signs of the recent trauma still visible. Sugawara can tell it’s going to leave a nasty scar despite the treatment, but better than the alternative he supposes. The healer raises his head and does a quick scan of the others to make sure they’re doing alright. Akaashi has been helping tend to the ones who are mildly injured- cleaning flesh wounds and bandaging them. Kageyama and Bokuto have gathered up the survivors and are now tending to those who didn’t make it. Sugawara immediately lowers his head catching sight of Bokuto carrying a much-too small body towards the makeshift graves.

He moves to the next villager, another man with a bloodstained patch over his eye. He’s old and murmuring nonsense as Sugawara removes the soaked bandage, careful not to agitate him any further. The healer gives a quick examination and closes his eyes, concentrating his magic to the wound. He tries to clear his mind and save his energy for the rest of the ones who need his help. He’s sweating uncomfortably and uses his shoulder to brush some of the moisture from the side of his face.

They’d been travelling within a day of their destination, and Bokuto caught sight of a smoke trail in the distance. Coming up over the hill to investigate, a horrific sight was found. A town was being pillaged, over half of the buildings on fire or already demolished. Sugawara could hear screams in the distance and as he turned his head to gauge the other’s reactions, Bokuto was already galloping towards the chaos without a word to any of them and his lance drawn.

The remaining three were quick to follow behind.

Not a huge group of bandits compared to others Sugawara has encountered, but enough to terrorize this poor village. Bokuto was truly the star of the fight, demonstrating his skill as a Royal Guard first hand in action. His aptitude with a lance is the most impressive Sugawara has ever seen, cutting the bandits down like cattle. Bokuto fought with a level of polished skill achieved through training Sugawara is sure, but the knight also held an innate strength with every piercing blow to the bandits that couldn’t be ignored either.

Sugawara concentrated mainly on getting people safely away from the fighting, while Akaashi and Kageyama joined in to assist Bokuto. Though outnumbered, the raiders did not possess the skill or stamina to badly injure any of them. The fighting lasted less than an hour before the few remaining bandits fled. Bokuto gave chase to them even though Akaashi urged against it. Sugawara just started healing the first injured person- a woman who’d been stabbed in the back trying to flee, when Bokuto ultimately decided the pursuit wasn’t worth it and returned to help with the aftermath.

As he moves to the next injured person, Sugawara’s head is spinning. He internally denies wanting to stop, convincing himself since there’s not many people left, he can force his way through this. More importantly, they need him now. Lowering to his knees in front of the next person, Sugawara’s body is thankful to not support his weight. He doesn’t bother looking at the person’s face or speaking, immediately zoning in on the arrow lodged in his leg. Ugh, he’s going to have to get that out first-

A hand lays on his shoulder. Sugawara looks up at Akaashi, who harbours concern in his dark eyes. “You should take a break after this, Sugawara-san. Allow me to take care of the rest,” he offers, walking to kneel on the opposite side of the man before Sugawara reluctantly nods, knowing this wound is going to take the lasts of his magic anyway. He accepts the help with a small thank-you.

Akaashi focuses on the man, instructing him to lie as still and relaxed as possible. Sugawara thinks Akaashi could have made a great healer simply based off his bedside manners. The man’s body releases a bit of tension with a large exhale. One of Akaashi’s hands rests on his thigh gently, while the other grabs the arrow jutting from his shin. His stare returns to Sugawara.

“Whenever you are ready, Sugawara-san.”

He’s tired. Exhausted is probably a better way to describe it. The effort to lift his hands is more difficult than it was earlier. He hasn’t eaten since lunch and the sun is touching down for the night. Shit, on top of it all he still horribly misses Daichi, even though he shouldn’t be thinking about him right now. At a time like this, having Daichi nearby would feel a lot more reassuring. Sugawara blinks back the prick behind his eyes at the realization, taking a breath for clarity and nods his head once.

The arrow comes out cleanly and the man yowls.

Bokuto glances over towards the sound, wincing and shaking his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to be honest with y'all, i really struggled with this chapter and I'm not as happy as I'd like to be with it.
> 
> on a better note, I think the next one is much better and I can't wait to share it with you 😊


	10. Fragments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hbd Oikawa!!!

Though half the town is destroyed, the survivors insist they stay in one of the remaining houses for the evening. Sugawara accepts on their behalf and Akaashi is thankful for the decision, even if he feels uncomfortable borrowing a house all for themselves with all the others having to share.

It is late and Akaashi is heading towards the house, having finished changing bandages on the villagers with serious injuries. He promised Sugawara he would do so if the healer took his rest for the remainder of the day. Now that his end is fulfilled Akaashi is exhausted, simply put.

He approaches the house and sees a vague outline of Bokuto resting against the outside, sitting with his knees drawn up and head resting on the wall. Akaashi pauses, trying to figure out if he is sleeping or not. His body begs for rest and yet, Akaashi turns and approaches. He kneels in front of the knight, calling Bokuto’s name gently as to not startle him.

The knight gives a sound of acknowledgement, but his eyes remain closed. A small smile curls along the side of Akaashi’s mouth. “Would you like to sleep inside? Our hosts have makeshift beds set up for us,” he offers. It is nothing more than a few blankets and pillows set on the ground, but proves better than camping out on the road.

A grunt that possibly resembles a negative answer comes from Bokuto. Akaashi taps on the metal plating of the armour on his arm. “You will not be very comfortable sleeping like this,” he insists.

“Too heavy. Arms too tired…” Bokuto murmurs.

Without thinking about it much, Akaashi reaches for one of Bokuto’s forearms and finds the string tying the plate around it, beginning to undo the knot. He only looks up once the metal sleeve is off his arm and next to Bokuto.

The knight’s eyes are half-open. An unrefined sadness sits in them. At first, Akaashi thinks he might have done something wrong, until Bokuto speaks. “Y’know what one of the survivors told me earlier, Akaashi?”

Akaashi is silent a moment, his eyes dropping as he works on the other forearm. “No Bokuto-san, what was it?” He asks, indulging him. If it was someone else, Akaashi surely would not go to all this trouble just to get them to go to bed. Akaashi has more than figured in their short time together that Bokuto is not someone else though. It is an odd feeling that he finds himself curious to pursue.

“He said there were rumours of other towns and villages being destroyed because all the knights have been called back to the city.” Bokuto explains.

Akaashi pauses briefly before nodding. “I understand. With everything happening in the Kingdom, it leaves no one around to guard the smaller areas,” he iterates.

Secretly, Akaashi knows this to be not entirely true. He knows this town, having visited in passing at a younger age. Knows that it would not take more than a handful of men to keep a village this size safe from the bandits. He also knows that within a half day’s riding distance, a large estate houses enough men to spare that kind of protection. Akaashi does not state any of this knowledge though, glancing upwards to the night sky uncomfortably.

“What a failure on the knights end- on my end. How could this have happened?” Bokuto asks, frustration slipping out of his exhausted words.

“What happened here today has no connection to you, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi states, pausing the removal of Bokuto’s armour to sit next to the knight with his knees tucked up in similar fashion. He places his hands behind his thighs and returns to staring at the sky as he continues. “Without your help, this whole town would have been destroyed.”

“I did what I do. Anyone in my position would have done the same,” Bokuto replies sincerely.

Akaashi frowns. “I am not so sure. Forgive me for saying this, but I thought you would have preferred to continue travelling rather than stop and help,” he admits.

He can feel Bokuto’s gaze on him and meets it, observing the scratch on his cheek. A nick from one of the bandit’s knives, which could have been much worse had Bokuto not jumped back far enough. Akaashi saw to it that an arrow was delivered cleanly through his neck after the blade touched Bokuto’s skin. The rage he felt in that moment, hot and mind-numbing, enters his chest thinking about it.

Bokuto speaks with a mixture of disbelief and curiosity. “Huh? Why’d you think that?”

Akaashi breaks eye contact, a sudden unease running through his mind as though he stands on thin ice. “I thought the mission would have been your top priority considering the Prince’s wishes.” Akaashi reasons.

“Well sure, getting involved set us back a day or two, but I know Hinata won’t be mad when he knows why. He knows I have a duty to protect, and he cares about his people,” Bokuto insists. He explains himself with confidence, like he is unsure why Akaashi would question such a decision in the first place.

Shameful embarrassment takes Akaashi by surprise, and he exhales, his hands under his legs grabbing on tightly. “Bokuto-san, may I tell you something?” He asks timidly.

Bokuto blinks. “Sure, I’ll listen,” he accepts easily.

Akaashi releases another breath and with it, some of the tension dissolves. “I find myself rather uncomfortable in the presence of the nobility,” Akaashi admits.

“Really?” Bokuto asks. “You sure do not seem like it, you're always so cool!”

Akaashi brushes past the compliment though his heart bumps a little louder hearing it. “I learned to hide the discomfort as a way of protecting myself. The alternative was,” Akaashi pauses to think. “Unpleasant.”

“I’m not sure I follow,” Bokuto adds in hesitantly.

Akaashi nods, raising his hands to finish removing Bokuto’s armour. As he does, he starts to wonder if Bokuto can tell he is nervous. He needs something else to focus on if he is to approach this. “You recall me saying I was the second son of Lord Akaashi and how I have not been under his roof in years?” Akaashi asks.

“Yea of course,” Bokuto replies, a small frown settling on his face. He lifts his arm to give Akaashi easier access, sliding his shoulder plate off.

Still not looking up, Akaashi continues. “I have not travelled these paths in over five years. So every day we travelled farther north was a reminder of it and I began thinking about how long it has been since I left. I started dreaming about it too.”

“Is that why your eyes have been so sad in the mornings?” Bokuto asks, blunt and openly honest.

Akaashi’s hands halt in place. He is hesitant to respond, throat suddenly tight.

“It’s um-“ Bokuto tries to correct, probably having taken the silence as a bad sign. “You don’t look like you is what I mean!” He states confidently. As soon as the words leave his mouth, Bokuto wears a doubtful expression. “That wasn’t any better, was it?” He ponders aloud.

A breath of amusement releases from Akaashi, despite the situation. “It is fine, Bokuto-san. There is truth in your words, I have to admit. The past suddenly does not feel so distant anymore. Responsibilities I thought I got rid of are chasing me and it scares me.” He pauses. “It is also the reason I lost my temper with you the other morning. I hope you can forgive my behaviour.”

“ _That_ was losing your temper?” Bokuto questions as he sits forwards so Akaashi can untie his chest plate. “I thought you were upset sure, but you were still polite you know. I wouldn’t call that losing your temper.”

That rouses a smile out of Akaashi. Bokuto’s frame of reference for emotions and his are clearly very different. “Yes, I suppose it is hard for me to forget the things instilled at an early age,” he admits, lifting the last big piece of armour off Bokuto’s chest and setting it down. He settles next to Bokuto again, with his knees drawn up.

The knight remains silent. Akaashi glances over to Bokuto’s face, his gaze far off, but not trained on anything in particular.

“You can speak your mind,” Akaashi encourages. It is odd for him to be giving someone that advice. Though, there has been lots of odd things Bokuto has managed to get out of him thus far without realizing it.

Bokuto’s eyes widen and his licks his lips as he returns his attention to Akaashi. “Well it’s- I don’t get it completely, I guess? Why did you leave?”

“Allow me to try and explain,” Akaashi offers, mulling over his thoughts in a lull of silence. “Bokuto-san, I am sure you know a lot about the nobility, correct?”

Bokuto shrugs. “Well, sure I guess. I wouldn’t say I’m an expert, but I know enough.”

“Then you are probably aware that a second son have little priorities in a family,” Akaashi continues without much thought. “From an early age, I understood this concept.”

Akaashi tries not to let the weight of the words set in, but it becomes hard to speak aloud the things that have not been. It is even harder to hear himself say them.

Bokuto’s hand settles on his shoulder. Such a simple action, but it helps. Around Bokuto, a sense of safety allows him to bring out a part of himself that Akaashi forced himself to suppress long ago. The way the knight wears his heart on his sleeve draws Akaashi in. It makes him want to do the same, or at least try to in spite of how nervous he is right now. So, Akaashi opens his mouth and lets himself speak, free of worry or judgement.

“I also realized life as a noble was not what I wanted for myself. Though I slept in luxurious beds, ate grand meals and never struggled to live, I was miserable. I hated having no control over the way I lived my life and living by rules born of tradition when I disagreed with them. My upbringing was no different from any other person raised by nobility and still…”

Akaashi pauses, takes a breather to soothe the lump in his throat and keeps talking.

“I hated it. And it was all for what? There was never anything meant for me in that life even if I played by the rules and let my father rule all my decisions for nothing more than political gain. I was never meant to inherit my family's title or the wealth and I did not want it anyway. Not if I had to trade it for my freedom. I am the one who should decide my life. The one who carves out my path to at least try and live a life that means something to me.”

He breathes deep, heartrate fluttering in strong beats. Akaashi cannot remember the last time he spoke this much, and so passionately. He swallows thickly after nothing is left on his mind to say.

Bokuto takes awhile to say something. “Akaashi, you like working with your buddies in the mercenary group, right?”

Wordlessly and a little confused, Akaashi nods his head.

“And other than these recent days of travelling, do you think much about your old house?” The knight continues.

“Sometimes I miss my mother,” Akaashi answers. “She was always good to me. Other than that…” he shakes his head.

“What about wanting to go back there?”

“I cannot see myself returning.”

The knight smiles warmly. “If I got this right, it sounds like overall, you’re happy that you made the decision to leave.”

Akaashi reflects on this, gaze retreating back to the night sky. “I am. It is without a doubt the best decision I have made in life,” he confirms. No, there is no shortage of problems in his life these days. But the problems of a mercenary are ones Akaashi would gladly take any day over the problems of a noble.

“So don’t doubt yourself, okay?” Bokuto pleads.

“Doubt myself?” Akaashi repeats, not quite piecing it together.

“Yea, you know, the decisions and choices you made to get here. I get the feeling since thinking about the past you've been wondering recently, 'did I make the right choice?'. But you made the decision so you could live life the way you want and you're happy with it."

Akaashi nods. Maybe it is the exhaustion, but Bokuto's insights are like pieces forming a puzzle.

"If you look at it like that, is there more to it?” Bokuto asks with a small wave of his arm.

Akaashi blinks at the stars. Then at Bokuto. The knight cocks his head to the side, a little puzzled by the blank stare. Akaashi cannot help a smile. Then he releases a single laugh. But once the first comes out, the giggles burst from within. It is quiet at first, until he has to bring a hand to his mouth to try and stifle the uncontrollable fit.

“Akaashi?” Bokuto asks, head tilted further but also laughing a little himself. “What’s so funny?”

Akaashi shakes his head, trying to wave the knight off as he captures his breath. “Why are you laughing if you are unsure?” He asks.

“Seeing you laugh is contagious,” Bokuto returns easy as pie, flashing a bright grin.

Akaashi’s face warms and he keeps a hand to his mouth a bit longer to recapture himself. He calms down and lowers it, opening his eyes to smile apologetically. “There is nothing more to it if you look at it like that,” he repeats to himself. “I find it funny I am only grasping that concept now. It seems like something I should have figured it out ages ago, it is so obvious.”

The two slip into a comfortable silence. Akaashi loses track of how long until Bokuto speaks. “I forgot to mention. Thanks for earlier,” he murmurs.

“Hm?” Akaashi asks for clarification, not realizing his eyes slipped shut. He blinks, catching the slip-up in his manners.

Bokuto points to the scratch on his face, oblivious. “You took down the guy who nearly got the slip on me. A clean shot, too,” he praises.

Again, Akaashi notices how hot his face feels. Bokuto praises him like it is nothing, though the impact on Akaashi is intense. “Oh I-, well yes. I have to watch out for my allies,” he stammers.

“You’re so cool, Akaashi,” Bokuto comments wholeheartedly.

Akaashi swallows. “I think today, you were the “cool” one.”

Bokuto laughs. “Why do you say it like that?” He asks, shaking his head. “Never mind, let’s go get some rest. We deserve it, yea?”

The knight shifts forward to rise, but halts as Akaashi places a hand to his arm. He glances over curiously. Akaashi’s lips are pressed together.

“Thank you, Koutarou,” he says, hoping it conveys as sincerely as it feels.

Akaashi watches his eyes grow and lips part in surprise, while a flush takes his features.

Bokuto says nothing, and a hint of doubt presents itself. “I apologize, was that rude of me?” Akaashi asks, wondering if he crossed a line. Although, he does recall Bokuto saying he could address him that way…

“Say it again,” Bokuto requests.

Akaashi blinks back shock. “What?” He quips back uncertainly.

Bokuto remains firm in his stance, uncomfortably enough. “Please,” he insists. “I liked it.”

Akaashi feels _very_ embarrassed to do it and knows he is red as ripe cherries, but he nods and murmurs the man’s name quietly without meeting his eyes. He only looks up as Bokuto shifts closer to him.

“I wish you’d call me that all the time,” the knights says earnestly.

Licking his dry lips, Akaashi swallows and wonders how he says things like that so easily. “Not all the time, but if we are alone like this, I will try,” he offers. “And while we are on the subject, you may call me Keiji if you choose to.”

Bokuto nods, a smile on his face. Akaashi finds it to be contagious and yearns to pull him close.

Before they step inside, he acts on the urge. Akaashi calls his name softly in front of the door. Bokuto turns around, his plates of armour gathered in his arms and Akaashi leans close to peck him on the mouth.

He should have expected Bokuto would drop the metal plates to the ground in surprise. But he did not expect the knight to immediately wrap his arms around Akaashi’s middle and carry him to the side of the house so they could share heated kissed in the glow of the moonlight.

* * *

Yamaguchi tries not to wring his hands nervously. His head is low as he walks along the plush rug, feeling much too intimidated by the presence of the east wing to raise it. He’s sure there’s no one else around save for the guards leading him somewhere he’s never been to before, but maybe that’s why it's so unnerving. Very few people are allowed in these halls, and those who are possess much higher status than someone like Yamaguchi.

Shortly following dinner while walking back to the stables to finish chores for the evening, he was approached by two guards and ordered to appear in front of a Lord. By whom, he wasn’t told, and for what either. The guards simply turned around and Yamaguchi followed behind, returning inside of the castle.

It’s easy to come up with a reason he’s being singled out- the only one that stands out being his visits with Tsukishima. Maybe someone finally caught on that a guard among the ranks was an imposter. Yamaguchi swallows thickly, already coming up with ideas of what’s going to be done with him when he’s brought to- well whoever the person is who summoned him in the first place.

Yamaguchi looks up, having just enough time to stop in place as the guard’s footsteps come to a halt in front of him. They stand in front of a pair of large doors, then turn around to stand on each side of them. One instructs Yamaguchi to enter and the seed of doubt that was planted in his belly has sprouted into a full-blooming flower of terror now. He stares at one of the door handles, taking a breath and twisting it to open.

The room inside is much darker than the well-lit eastern halls. There are a few candles lit around the room, but the lowlight is strong and Yamaguchi sees no windows. Yamaguchi has to blink a couple times to adjust, closing the door behind him. He notices how large the room is, then he catches the giant stacked shelves surrounding the entire perimeter of the room, filled with countless books. The room is decorated with several large wooden tables, a few desks and chairs. In one corner of the room, a few fancy couches are lined together as a sort of lounging area. About halfway down the room on the right is a set of stairs, leading to a second story with more filled shelves.

Ah, a library then. A place a stable boy like him would never have use for in the first place.

Taking a step forward, Yamaguchi searches for a person in the room and finds no one. “Hello?” He stutters.

He hears a sound in the direction of the second story and seconds later, a figure steps in front of the railing overhanging above. “Ah, my apologies, I didn’t hear you come in,” he explains quietly. Yamaguchi can’t make out much from here, but the man has a calm undertone in his speech. He nods in resignation.

The man approaches the stairs, descending slowly with a hand brought to the railing for balance. “Thank you for coming, Tadashi.”

The use of his name startles Yamaguchi, causing him to pause. “Of course, my Lord,” he says, catching himself. What he really wants to say is, _I wasn’t given much of a choice._ Also, _who are you and how do you know me?_

The man reaches the bottom of the stairs and now Yamaguchi can decipher his figure out a little better. He doesn’t recognize the Lord; he’s a man of petite build, dressed entirely in black from his embroidered tunic down to his boots. His face holds a certain youth to it, but he picks up a candle on one of the tables and walks across the room while beckoning Yamaguchi to follow, and the lines on his forehead and around his mouth suggest he’s much older than originally thought.

They stop at the couches and Yamaguchi sits stiff across from the Lord as he instructs him to. Up close like this with the man’s eyes directly on him, Yamaguchi tries not to squirm. There’s something intimidating about his gaze.

“I’ll only take a bit of your time,” the man explains. Yamaguchi nods, unable to find a steady voice, waiting for the blow to come. For the man to say he knows all about what’s been going on between him and Tsukishima in the mornings. For him to order Yamaguchi’s arrest and throw him in a jail for the rest of his life-

“I’d like you to gather the other stable boys and prepare all of the horses for departure,” the Lord says. Yamaguchi’s cluster of anxious thoughts halt after the words are spoken. _What?_

He remembers that he should probably speak up to the request instead of staring blankly like a fool. “Yes, my Lord.”

“Excellent,” the Lord nods. “The guards will arrive tomorrow evening around this time to pick them up.”

Yamaguchi’s toes curl. Tsukishima’s warning makes an appearance in his thoughts and he knows he shouldn’t do it, but the curiosity outweighs the fear.

“Does this have to do with Prince Hinata’s disappearance?” He asks meekly.

The Lord blinks at him, eyes unchanging. Yamaguchi can’t quite place it, but there’s something familiar about the man the longer he sits here across from him. He knows he’s never met him before though, so Yamaguchi wonders how this could be.

“I’m afraid it does. We don’t have any leads to where he is, so we must take our search beyond the city’s walls. Time is of the essence, so I need you to ensure this task is seen through,” he emphasizes.

Tsukishima’s words echo again and doubt prickles beneath his skin. “The horses will be ready on time,” Yamaguchi says steadily.

The man nods, standing up. “Good. You may excuse yourself.”

When Yamaguchi is back outside and breathing in the crisp night air, he feels like a weight of iron has been taken off his shoulders. It’s only temporary though, as he approaches one of the stables and starts worrying his bottom lip between teeth.

* * *

Hinata peers around the corner of the house, taking a moment to observe their surroundings. Immediately, he’s drawn to the faint glow of a torch illuminating the iron gate and the four guards standing post in front of it. Hinata’s uncovered eye drifts upwards to the watch post above, observing a figure there too.

He pulls back around the corner, staring at the others. “There’s at least five. Four on the ground, one, possibly two at the watch post,” he recounts.

Hinata was expecting more than that truthfully, considering the situation. His knowledge of the city streets from his time sneaking out has come in handy tonight. The few guards they spotted were easy to detour around by weaving in and out of alleys. The night has brought a temporary halt to the chaos. Most of the fires appear to have been put out since earlier in the day, but during their pursuit to the west gate, the group happened to encounter the aftermath of one of them. Kenma had to urge Hinata to keep moving when he remained in front of the pile of charred rubble for too long.

He figures there must be some kind of curfew set in place as a result of the rioting. Earlier in the day during the final review of the plan, Hinata paused mid sentence and turned his head to the side at a sound resembling the echoes of the crowds cheering in the fighting pits. Oikawa peered out the window and observed that the streets were flooded with people heading towards the bridge separating the slums and the central city.

Now the streets are dead silent. They aren’t anywhere near the bridge, but Hinata has to wonder what the central area looks like considering they passed many destroyed buildings making their way to the west gate through the slums.

Really though, Hinata isn’t sure if all the anarchy is because of the rioting. He began to wonder what part the guards- _his_ guards, were playing in all of this. Especially after they passed a corpse in an alley with fresh blood staining his clothes and the ground. That dread Hinata felt the night he was almost killed hit him for a split second. And it came back with the other few they stumbled upon.

They snuck by a quiet street and heard the sounds of guards breaking into a house, followed by yelling and screaming from the inhabitants inside. It was hard to keep moving and Asahi nearly had to drag Hinata away to keep him from prying.

Now as they stand wedged between two houses waiting to strike, Hinata can’t help feeling like a coward right now.

“That’s it?” Oikawa asks, breaking his thoughts. “We can take that many no problem.”

Kenma gives him a trained stare. “It’s not about numbers, it’s about doing this without getting detected,” he reasons.

Hinata nods, determined. “Are you close enough to use your warp spell?” He asks Kenma, who nods in return.

The Prince looks to Asahi next. “You’re ready to go?” He checks.

“Yes,” Asahi replies, hand resting on the hilt of his sword. Hinata catches a bit of reluctance and can’t say he doesn’t relate to the feeling right now. What they’re about to do is risky, but it’s better for them to get out of the city.

Hinata glances at Oikawa last. “We wait for the signal then move out,” he says.

Oikawa nods his head, fully committed. “Right.”

“Alright,” Hinata exhales. “Let’s do this.”

Kenma faces Asahi and raises his arm, palm flat facing the knight. He closes his eyes and his lips silently practice the lines of a spell. A faint, white glow emits from his hand and envelops Asahi all in one swift moment, before fading away completely and leaving no trace of the knight behind with it. Seconds pass and Hinata hears the sound of metal clinking and a yell that is quelled into silence quickly.

He peers around the corner of the house, seeing that all of the guards on the ground are staring up at the top of the wall. One of them calls out something to the guard on watch and waits for a response, only to receive silence.

“It’s going well,” Hinata whispers excitedly as he watches the scene unfold.

“I’m gonna take down three of those guys by the time you’re done with one, Chibi-chan,” Oikawa taunts in a hush, watching the scene from above him.

Hinata whips his head up to stare challengingly at his advisor, game face on. “You wanna bet?” He asks seriously.

A sigh is released by Kenma from behind. Suddenly, a constricting force presses Hinata’s arms tight to his body and Hinata watches how Oikawa stiffens in a similar manner. Hinata’s legs grow heavy and he drops to his knees.

“This isn’t a fighting tournament in the pits,” Kenma criticizes quietly.

“Aw come on, Kenma!” Hinata protests, trying to move his arms or legs but with no luck. “We were just kidding.”

“Why’d you have to stun us?” Oikawa grits out, dropping down on one of his knees. Hinata tries not to groan at the cramped muscles in his body.

“Because physically restraining you two is the only way I can be sure you don’t interfere and do something stupid,” Kenma pauses, turning his head to the sound of the gates rising. “And there's the signal. This won't take long. Get the horses out of the house when I'm finished. The spell will wear off by then.”

“No, Kenma, wait-“ Hinata hisses, but the brunet ignores him in favour of striding around the corner towards the guards without hesitation.

He’s so light on his feet he almost looks like he’s floating as he approaches. Hinata watches Kenma raise both arms, stopping close behind the guards. Each one has their back to him, staring at the opened gate and yelling up at the guard on post to figure out what’s going on. Hinata watches a white ring surround the ground around Kenma, illuminating the space beneath. Four smaller rings detach from the light and travel below the feet of each one of the guards.

“What the-“ one of them says, glancing down.

Kenma’s arms raise above his head and then he swings them back down with his fists closed. Rods of light burst upwards from the rings, striking three of the guards in the head simultaneously and knocking them unconscious. The one who spotted the attack manages to dive out of the way of the magic.

“He took three out at once, so cool,” Hinata coos from his position around the corner. But he doesn’t like that the remaining guard has a sword drawn and charges at Kenma, who stays still and watches the man without changing his stance.

“So unfair you mean. How come he gets all the glory?” Oikawa protests.

His advisor’s words go unnoticed and Hinata watches the sword swiping. Kenma dodges with quick reflexes, jumping back and summoning a counter attack mid-air. The spiral of light strikes the man in his chest, but his armour causes the magic to deflect into the ground. Kenma lands on his feet, touching down to the ground with a hand for balance and his hood falls down with the momentum.

“Shit,” Oikawa mutters.

The guard leaps forward to close the gap with a vertical slice. Kenma spins out of the way and fires another burst of light magic. The man evades it and counters quicker than the last time. Hinata almost screams his name as the sword grazes Kenma's right arm, above the elbow. Kenma doesn’t utter a sound, but Hinata knows it must have hurt.

Kenma points two fingers directly at the man’s face. A blinding flash emits that causes Hinata to squint his eye, unable to stare directly at the light. A scream follows and the magic fades away. Blinking the disoriented colours away from his eye, Hinata looks towards the scene again and sees the guard on the ground, unresponsive with his sword dropped next to him.

Hinata feels the effects of the stun spell wearing off, his limbs tingling as he regains control of them. He stumbles as he runs towards Kenma in a hurry, checking that he’s okay. The mage is panting with his hand pressed to the wound on his arm, a faint glow to it. Kenma insists he’s fine.

The Prince makes the mistake of glancing down at the guard’s body. What should be where his eyes are is nothing but indistinguishable, seared flesh, like he’s been severely burned. It's easy for Hinata to tell he’s dead.

“I’m sorry Shouyou,” Kenma pants. “I-I didn’t want-“

Hinata shakes his head and urges him to go to the other side of the gate while he helps Oikawa lead the horses out of the abandoned house they were stationed behind. Oikawa's "friend" from the brothel in the east procured them the horses, apparently owing the advisor a favour and it must have been big for them to pull this off. Four horses were dropped off at the abandoned house near the west gate as requested. Beyond the city walls, Hinata gives a whistle and Asahi lowers the iron door, the gate dropping with a clang. Hinata watches Kenma raise his right arm to warp him back and he catches the dark stains on his sleeve. Asahi returns and mounts the horse Oikawa passes off to him.

“Kenma, your arm,” Hinata tries.

Kenma raises himself onto the remaining horse, shaking his head. “It can wait. We need to get out of here.”

“Agreed,” Oikawa echoes, instructing Hinata to get on his horse.

Hinata obeys though the itch to protest remains. He knows Kenma isn’t in good shape after all of that. Using his warp spell even just once takes a toll on him. Using it twice in a quick span on top of fighting and taking a hit cannot be good. Hinata rides by Kenma’s side to watch over him. The four of them set off into the night, in pursuit of their next temporary haven.

An hour into travel, Kenma faints and falls off his horse. They check his arm and see that the wound is already patched up from his healing magic. Oikawa suggests he passed out due to fatigue, so Hinata shares his horse, supporting his friend while Asahi steers the reins of Kenma's horse.

Hinata only looks back at the Kingdom once and nothing is distinguishable from their distance. He waits for the horns to blow and men to come charging out towards him at any point.

But the night is silent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me throwing scraps of romance to keep yall coming back 👀
> 
> But for real, thanks so much to everyone showing love. You guys are great.


	11. Alongside Peril

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all ain't gonna like me for this one!!

Daichi is running on his last reserves. In body and mind, he is weak. Past jobs have been tough and frustrating, but this…this one takes the title of something entirely different. Daichi isn’t sure if he was simply too confident going into the situation at hand or if some deity out there is trying to ensure they do not fulfill this mission. Either way, he’s thrown off.

If he has to isolate the problems they’ve experienced since setting sail, Daichi would divide them into three categories: travelling, bandits and Kuroo.

The first; travelling. The small rowboat Daichi stole from one of the other estates on the Island was not as terrible as he suspected it to be. That’s not to say sailing was enjoyable in any sense, no. It took twice the amount of time, was shaky and the small boat left the four men cramped together for hours on end. Stepping foot back on solid land back in Matsushima, Daichi concluded it could have been much worse. It’s obvious to him the others on the boat did not share the same sentiment, but we’ll get there.

The other travelling issues began once they arrived to the coastal town, starting with their horses going missing. The stable owner sadly expressed his establishment was robbed only the previous day and a few other businesses around his suffered the same. Iwaizumi brushed off the apology, asking to buy any of the remaining horses and was turned away. All of the man’s horses were stolen and all he had left was a donkey. Iwaizumi bought it anyway and wished the man well.

That left them travelling on foot back to the Kingdom. Except for the fugitive, who Iwaizumi decided would ride on the donkey with his hands remaining bound. Iwaizumi and Daichi rotated turns walking next to him, holding the reins to keep the donkey on track plus a watchful eye. The slow pace has put them further behind on schedule. Daichi knows it’s bugging Iwaizumi though he keeps a cool demeanor throughout it all.

The second issue; bandits. Within the first day of leaving Matsushima, they ran into a group on the road. As soon as the men saw their fugitive restrained on the donkey, they started asking questions. Iwaizumi tried to deal with it quietly and quick, but as Daichi expected it ended with a fight. Bandits don’t seem to give much of a shit about what you have to say if you have something of interest they want.

Though the men were relatively easy to deal with, Iwaizumi, Daichi and Kuroo were focused on the fight and their fugitive attempted a getaway, slipping off the donkey without notice. Kuroo spotted him first and didn’t allow the man to get far before giving chase and catching him. He punched the fugitive in the eye and threatened his life if he attempted to flee again. Daichi and Iwaizumi shared an uncertain look. A second group ambushed them after setting up camp for the night and were taken care of.

They spotted a third group the next day and thankfully it was only three men. They didn’t say a word to as they passed one another. Daichi held his breath the entire time they crossed paths, all the way until he could turn around and the men were small figures in the distance. If he’s honest, he has no desire or energy for that matter to get into anymore fights for the remainder of the journey. Travelling has been hard on them all, having to spend extra time during the day on foot to make up for lost speed. His axe is heavy attached to his back and though he’s used to swinging such a heavy weapon around, it’s not pleasant to carry on their long trek back to the Kingdom.

And finally, the third and probably the most troubling issue to Daichi; Kuroo.

Kuroo has been acting strange since they captured the fugitive. At first, Daichi chalked his curt behaviour up to the sailing situation. They almost had to resort to restraining the dark mage to get him on the boat and Daichi expected his mood to be sour the entire time (as it was). Daichi knows Kuroo’s fear of sailing is what caused him to act in such a way so he and Iwaizumi tolerated it with as little protest as possible.

It was when Kuroo started interrogating the fugitive Daichi became doubtful sailing was the only issue. He knows barely anything about the Institute of Dark Magic, outside of what Kuroo has told him, but it’s enough for Daichi to say it’s a terrible place filled with bad people doing awful things to children. Kuroo explained to him once that all dark mages come from the Institute, the only place in the Prefecture where one can learn the dark arts. And so he can understand why Kuroo would possess a more than natural hostility towards the man, considering his background.

But the interrogation gets to a point where Kuroo is getting nothing out of the man and losing his cool while doing it. Iwaizumi forces his way into the conversation to take some of the heat off. Since the outburst, Kuroo has barely said a word to any of them. Daichi wants to talk to him, but he really has no idea what he could say. The dark mage is obviously very disturbed by the way things are playing out. On their first night’s rest, Daichi was going down for rest after his shift of watching the fugitive and caught Kuroo rereading the note from Kenma. Daichi frowned at the sight. He’s become worried his friend is getting too affected by this mission.

In the morning, Daichi wakes up to yelling and spots Kuroo roughing the fugitive around, yelling at him to give it up. It finally snaps Daichi’s breaking point and he rises wordlessly to approach the dark mage, who is gripping the collar of the man’s dirtied shirt and yelling in his face. The fugitive doesn’t put up much resistance and it’s not like he can if he tried, his arms and feet bound plus another rope tying him to a tree.

Daichi grabs a fistful of Kuroo’s clothes and hauls him off with a rough shove. Not having expected the action, Kuroo stumbles backwards and glares at Daichi. The brigand doesn't let surprise show on his features at the sight of Kuroo's somber, tired eyes. He probably didn’t sleep at all.

“That’s enough,” Daichi says calmly.

“No, I disagree,” Kuroo challenges, stepping forward again. Daichi doesn’t back down, keeping himself between Kuroo and the fugitive. Kuroo stops in front of Daichi and there’s a true fire in his gaze. “It’s far from enough. This guy worked for the Institute, I know it.”

“Kuroo, back off,” Iwaizumi’s voice calls in from behind. He’s sitting up from his position on the ground, finally waking amongst the commotion. “We’ll let Prince Hinata take care of his punishment.”

Kuroo whips his head back to glare at Iwaizumi and his jerky movements add to Daichi’s growing concern. He's erratic, releasing a laugh. “You guys don’t get it at all, do you?”

Guilt starts to prick at Daichi. It’s like watching a man start to lose sanity, the way he’s acting.

Iwaizumi sighs. “Get what, Kuroo?” He asks.

“Does this guy look like a merchant?” Kuroo fires back, pointing in the direction of the fugitive.

Daichi and Iwaizumi share a stare, wondering what they’re missing. “No?” Daichi answers unsurely. “But he had all those goods on the ship.”

“I’ll repeat it for you, since you weren’t there Daichi,” Kuroo annunciates. “This guy is a dark mage. Hinata said he’d been working as a merchant for ten years in the Kingdom.”

“He’s not the wrong guy, Kuroo. He admitted he knew people were coming for him,” Iwaizumi tries to reason. "Maybe he was working as a merchant on the side."

“I’m not saying he’s the wrong guy!” Kuroo bites back, anger lashing quick as a whip. “I’m saying we were misinformed on purpose!”

“Kuroo,” Daichi says, patience in his voice.

But the dark mage eyes him with contempt. “You think I’m crazy, don’t you?” He taunts.

“Nobody thinks you’re crazy,” Iwaizumi emphasizes. “But you’re acting a lot more irrationally than normal.”

“How can I not!?” Kuroo yells and with the question, the dam holding himself back is destroyed. “I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but there sure as hell is something bigger to this. First, Kenma’s stupid letter gets in my head and has me wondering why there are dark mages in the Kingdom in the first place. Then we find out our guy isn’t a merchant, but a dark mage who was living in the Kingdom for who knows how long? He literally asked if we were sent by either the Kingdom or the Institute! How are you not getting this?”

“You think there’s a connection between the Kingdom and the Institute,” Iwaizumi answers, realization dawning on his features. “And they’re going to come after you when we return with the fugitive.”

Kuroo scrunches his face up in silence, turning away from them and finally having nothing to say. Daichi looks behind him at the fugitive, who smiles with something eerie in his expression. The brigand tears his gaze away, now wanting to give him a quick kick to get that smugness off his face.

* * *

Tanaka tenses as the men come into view. His eyes sharpen and he looks over his shoulder at Noya, who is getting a nap in.

“Pst, Noya,” he calls to him.

Noya’s head sprouts up immediately. “What is it?” He asks, caution in his voice.

Tanaka can’t blame him. It’s been an all-out chaotic day of travelling today. On top of making several escapes from random men trying to mug them, they had one violent confrontation which was taken care of by Noya. It was the first time Tanaka ever saw him fight like that, and truthfully it struck awe into his chest. Tanaka still is unsure if it was good or bad awe. Noya wore concentration on his face similar to when he’s crafting a new sword. Intensity in his eyes and every movement, from the dodges of axes and swords coming his way to the counter attacks with his butterfly swords. It was almost like watching a dance.

A very bloody, gruesome dance.

Maybe Noya had a point. Tanaka wasn’t thrilled to be in that situation. Knockin’ a guy out cold cause he drunkenly picked a fight is one thing, but this was entirely different. He didn’t do much aside from making sure the wagon was kept safe while Noya did all the fighting.

The only injury Noya ended up with was a bruised cheek when some cheeky bastard slugged him. Tanaka hissed at the sight, but Noya was quick to stab through his chest and send him to the ground in a silent scream.

“Four guys up ahead,” Tanaka explains. “They don’t look so tough, but a couple are armed.”

“Hmph,” Noya says, sitting up quickly and reaching for his swords. “Do they have castle weapons?”

Tanaka squints. “Hard to say from here. One guy has an axe on his back. Another has a sword.”

“Alright, let’s wait till we’re closer to do anything. Stay calm,” Noya says carefully.

Tanaka nods to himself, taking a breath. He can’t help if a sharpness sets into his posture, or his teeth are clenched tighter as the men come clearer into view. If he can come off intimidating enough, surely these guys won’t think of messing with him. He makes eye contact with one of them, a guy in dark clothes with black, spiky hair. He’s giving Tanaka a glare similar to his own, almost a challenge.

“What’cha staring at!?” The man barks at him. One of his buddies tells him to shut it.

“Nuthin’ but a bunch of-“ Tanaka’s eyes widen and he cuts himself off. “Noya-san,” he says lowly over his shoulder.

He hears Noya standing up and unsheathing his swords. “I’m on it.”

Tanaka glances back. “Wait!” He cries, watching the man hop off the back of the platform of the wagon. He brings the horses to a stop and all the men go stiff at the movement, also stopping.

He watches Noya stop in front of the carriage, swords held out in front of himself in warning. He lowers them a moment later, finally reaching realization. The men are coming to recognize Noya, relief and maybe a bit of surprise filling their eyes.

Noya turns around, grinning at Tanaka. “Ryuu you sonnova bitch, these are our men!” He shouts.

* * *

Kageyama takes in his surroundings. Never before has he travelled up mountains like this- so high the temperature is cooler and the grounds are uncertain. To their left, a practically vertical cliff of the side of the mountains, so steep surely no person could climb. To their right, if he peers over enough on their path, he can actually see over the edge of the narrow rocky incline they travel. The steep drop into sharp rocks and a densely-packed forest of pine trees is enough of a sight to curdle something tight Kageyama’s stomach; a warning which instinctively causes himself to pull his gaze back.

He’s grateful this part of travel doesn’t take more than a day. There’s something very confining about travelling up a path like this. The group rides in pairs and Kageyama is still weary of the amount of space between himself and the cliff. Late afternoon is approaching and Kageyama hopes they can reach the fort by nightfall. He has little desire to ride up this path in the dark, or set up camp around here for that matter. There’s really no space on the rocky path to sleep anywhere if they wanted to.

At sundown, the path starts to open up and the peak of the mountains are in sight, an open meadow stretching a few miles ahead of them in the distance. The sun is halfway down the horizon, the night sky rising with her fall. The path they stand on extends far ahead into the distance towards a fort settled way on the other end of the meadow. It’s bigger than Kageyama thought it would be, expecting the fugitives to be in some kind of makeshift house. Along the edge of the meadow, clusters of pine trees surround the perimeters of the cliff’s edge like a natural barrier from the drop.

“I had no idea there was someone living this far up into the mountain,” Akaashi explains. “I was always told these lands were inhabitable.”

“All the better hiding place I suppose,” Sugawara comments quietly. Kageyama nods in agreement.

Bokuto stretches his arms over his head and releases a yawn. “This is good, now we won’t have to wait long for dark to get to the fort.”

Sugawara interjects. “Actually, we should find somewhere to rest for the night. The horses are exhausted and well, so am I.”

“I agree, Sugawara-san,” Akaashi confirms. “It would be wise for us to be in good condition before making our move.”

Kageyama doesn’t realize he has a frustrated look on his face until Sugawara glances his way for input. “What’s the matter, Tobio?” He asks.

“We planned to capture them today,” he comments bluntly.

“We did,” Sugawara responds with patience. “But travelling up the mountain took longer than we thought. We can’t afford to make any mistakes going into this, so let’s rest for the night so we’re ready tomorrow.”

Kageyama nods stiffly, though he wants to protest. Sugawara is the one in charge of their group, with a bit of slack on Bokuto of course. He knows once a decision is made, he has to commit to it. It's the way they work as a team.

He follows behind the other three as they begin trotting towards the perimeter of trees. There’s enough packed together to give cover in case someone is to ride by on the path, though it would be difficult to see them given the time of day in the first place.

They tie the horses off and set up camp somewhat clumsily in the dark. Kageyama starts a small fire and Akaashi passes around rations of food. Kageyama listens as Sugawara and Bokuto mainly chat, with the occasional input from Akaashi. He doesn’t feel like saying anything, his mind still stuck in a stubborn rut and his gaze moving towards the direction of the fort every now and then. Of course, he can’t see it from their position in the trees, but he can picture it. And the men holed up inside.

When the fire is put out and everyone is lying down for sleep, Kageyama rests on his back with his eyes wide open. He observes the night sky between the tops of pine trees surrounding him. He can hear wind rattling the grass close by in the meadow, blades whispering in hushes with every gust. He hears a wolf howling in the distance. With himself as the only one keeping him company, Kageyama’s thoughts drift.

He thinks about the east group. If everything has gone according to plan, they should be back at the Kingdom. Kageyama wonders if they ran into any trouble along the way like they did. He knows his comrades are capable of taking care of themselves should they have encountered anything.

His thoughts drift to the Prince, too. Kageyama has been doing a fair bit of reflecting on Hinata and the encounters they’ve had. How he was astonished at the sight of him in his fitted long coat, sitting atop the throne with smugness- eyes said _you didn’t forget me, huh?_ The Prince could probably tell by Kageyama’s expression he remembered him clear as day.

Yes, the first impression with the Prince (when he actually knew who he was) left a bitter taste in his mouth. Kageyama didn’t like the fact that some guy he ran into in the streets at night turned out to be a Prince, and he was able to track their group down just days after meeting. He also didn't like how Hinata assumed Kageyama would be unbothered by it and want to agree to a dangerous mission because of some title people call him.

King of Combat. Thinking the words, Kageyama frowns at the stars above. What a stupid nickname. What’s more stupid, is how devoted Hinata was to the idea of it. How he used the name numerous times with glee in his eyes and a part of adoration too. It made Kageyama uncertain, having someone act in such a way around him.

Though, the way Hinata acts in general makes Kageyama unsure. He was expecting the Prince to be a lot stuffier and well, boring if he’s honest. Yea, he’s an idiot and has a natural tendency to strike a nerve within Kageyama, but at the same time he’s determined and persistent. His stamina took Kageyama by surprise during their many spars. It was as if no matter how many times he got knocked down, he’d raise up.

Lulling on these thoughts allows time to pass easier than Kageyama thought it would. He’s certain everyone has fallen asleep by now and sits up to check. No voices of curiosity or accusation follow him while he steps off away from their temporary camp. Kageyama walks out past the treeline, beginning to veer his way towards the fort in the waist high grass.

He stops, thinking he heard a sound. Waiting for any repetition, Kageyama catches nothing and spares a glance over his shoulder. Eyes widen at the sight of Bokuto, standing about ten feet away with his arms crossed over his chest and a bright smile on his face that Kageyama can only see because the moon is near full tonight.

“You weren’t planning on sneakin’ in there and capturing the two men by yourself, were you?” The knight asks, a hint of a tease in his voice.

Kageyama lowers his gaze to the ground uncomfortably. “No,” he mutters. “I was going to check the place out, see what we’re up against.”

Bokuto’s eyebrows raise. “Ah, some recon, huh? I gotcha,” he nods to himself. “Well, I’d better tag along so you don’t go doing anything reckless.”

Kageyama glowers. “Reckless?” He repeats.

Bokuto simply laughs quietly, walking by and clapping him on the shoulder. He pauses to speak. “Or I could go wake Sugawara-san, and he can do it instead,” he offers with a smirk.

Kageyama huffs to himself, knowing well that Sugawara would be anything but impressed if he knew what he was doing right now. Bokuto clearly understands too. In resignation, Kageyama trails alongside Bokuto, actually surprised the knight is tagging along with him so easily. They circle the building multiple times and find a spot to stakeout the entrance to the fort. Hours pass, and Kageyama grows skeptical.

“It’s too quiet.”

Bokuto turns his head to Kageyama. He’s laying on his back, hands clasped behind his head and not doing much else other than counting the stars. “What’s that mean? It’s night, they’re probably asleep.”

Kageyama shakes his head, giving up and turning his attention to the knight. “I didn’t see any stables or horses.”

“Maybe they’re asleep too,” Bokuto suggests.

Kageyama’s eyes narrow. “There are no guards on post around the building and no torches lit. Is there really anybody in there?”

A look of confusion settles upon Bokuto’s face. “Well, there’s gotta be. It's what we were debriefed with,” he reasons.

Kageyama stiffens with frustration. “I’m saying- what if your information was wrong?” He questions. How does Bokuto not see his point at all? There’s no sign of anyone here.

Bokuto sits up. “Kageyama, you’re a real meticulous guy, I get it. You’re probably thinking we might have just wasted over a week travelling for nothing.”

Kageyama tries not to scowl.

“But we can’t rule it out yet. It’s a pretty large fort for a remote place like this,” the knight continues, nodding at the building. “We should at least search the inside before making a decision.”

He settles with a sound of indignation and nods. “I want to find and capture them.”

“I’m glad you’re eager to see this mission through. Funny, I thought you were against it based off first impressions,” Bokuto recalls.

“I was against it,” Kageyama admits. “But I-the Prince somehow changed my mind,” he admits.

Bokuto grins at him. “He has a way of charming people.”

Kageyama turns away, attempting to hide his warming face and agreeing to himself.

***

They wake up to cloudy skies which turn into rain within the hour. Their belongings are packed before it really starts pouring and the group shares a quick breakfast in silence. They start travelling in the trees as much as possible to give themselves cover from sight and the rain.

Kageyama hates to admit he’s tired after the short sleep he allowed himself, but he keeps the admission limited to himself. Sugawara and Akaashi are none the wiser to his and Bokuto’s actions yesterday, and they both agreed it should be kept that way if they didn’t want to endure a scolding from the two men. The fatigue isn’t enough to deter him and Kageyama is still near convinced nobody is living inside of the fort anyway.

“Let’s stay here and observe if anyone comes or goes,” Sugawara suggests when they’re nearly parallel with the fort from their position in the trees. Kageyama and Bokuto agree to a stakeout around the building on cue. They spend hours stationed, watching and waiting with nothing to show for. Kageyama is too tired to care he was right for seeing this coming.

“Maybe we should get closer,” Sugawara suggests finally. “There doesn’t seem to be anyone guarding the exterior.”

“What are you thinking?” Bokuto asks.

“Kageyama, I’d like you to explore the front gates. I want to make sure there’s nobody waiting past it.”

“Got it,” Kageyama confirms, dropping from his horse and leaving it with the others. He’s already done most of the inspecting anyway, so it should be quick. Before Kageyama turns to leave, Sugawara calls his name. Looking at the healer in question, he catches something in the man’s eyes.

“Don’t do anything reckless,” Sugawara orders, a hint of plea in his serious tone.

Kageyama nods, though that stupid word making its reappearance bugs him. “I won’t,” he assures.

A smile takes the healer’s face. “Really?”

He tries not to let a frown show. “Really,” he repeats lowly, feeling like a child.

Sugawara nods and Kageyama takes his leave. He rounds the corner and swiftly approaches the fort. He gets to the front entrance, an open doorway in the stone walls. As far as he can tell, this is the only way to get in or out. Kageyama peeks his head into the doorway, scanning the area for any sign of a person. Nothing. So, he steps forward and into the space, getting a detailed view of the fort.

It’s big. Not comparable to the castle in the Kingdom, but bigger than any building Kageyama has ever lived in. It strikes him as odd such a lavish fort would be built in a place like this. The journey to bring all the materials up the mountains alone would have been strenuous and near-impossible. Not to mention there’s no sign of civilization for miles around them. Getting food at the nearby town would be a full day’s trip.

It doesn’t appear old either. Kageyama expected it to be worn, with pieces of the architecture showing signs of age. The fort is built similar to the shape of a triangle. As the building gets taller, the amount of space on each story becomes smaller. At the very top of the fort, four spires surround the corners of a single watchtower. Kageyama doesn’t spot anyone there.

He crosses through the front of the fort and edges to the rear of the building to check the back. Pausing around the corner, Kageyama stops, hearing a horse snorting. He pokes out enough to see at least ten of them, tied to various posts. Pulling back, Kageyama exits the inner walls and returns to the group quick, admittedly with a racing heart.

“What is it?” Sugawara asks at his return.

“Horses at the back,” Kageyama explains with surprise. “There’s twelve.”

“Why do you sound so shocked?” Sugawara asks him and Kageyama catches sight of something triumphant on Bokuto’s face from over his shoulder. Kageyama wants to tell him to knock it off.

Instead he shakes his head. “I guess I didn’t think there’d be so many,” he lies.

“Hm, well it definitely changes how we should proceed,” Sugawara says. “We should wait till sundown again. It will give us enough time to change plans and have the night at our advantage.”

They wait in the forest until nightfall. Kageyama is exhausted and it’s still raining. He’s cold and a little sore. The persistence in his head doesn’t let up despite this. He’s going to get this job done, and _tonight_.

They proceed into the inner walls as a group when the moon is high. Getting inside is easy- the front doors aren’t locked. Inside and finally free from the rain, Kageyama’s head immediately turns upward to take in the grand room. He counts eight stories of balconies stacked atop of each other, getting smaller as they go up. A large staircase is situated directly in front of them leading up the stories and two narrow paths diverge to their immediate left and right. There’s no furniture in the room, nor paintings or decorations strewn on the wall.

“It’s a lotta space to cover, that’s for sure,” Bokuto says, stepping forward around turning around slowly to scan the room. It’s very quiet, aside from the pattering of rain Kageyama can faintly hear against the stone outside the walls.

“Perhaps we should split up to cover more ground,” Akaashi suggests.

Sugawara gives a sound of displeasure. “Stay in pairs close by. Bokuto and I will search every odd floor. You two do every even,” he says, nodding at Kageyama and Akaashi.

The group breaks. Kageyama and Akaashi reach the second-floor balcony and spot nine doors total, with each side of the wall containing a row of three.

“I’ll take the right. You go left and we’ll meet in the middle,” Kageyama explains. Akaashi nods and they set to checking the rooms. Most are small and barren, with a few containing a small bed and a side table, maybe a dresser. They make quick work and find nothing. Walking back to the staircase, they ascend to the fourth floor to repeat the process. Between rooms, Kageyama peers over the balcony and doesn’t see Sugawara and Bokuto. He wonders how big the first floor is if they’re still exploring it.

They’re on the sixth floor and Kageyama yawns to himself as he exits another room. He spots Sugawara and Bokuto returning from one of the corridors on the first floor. The healer looks up at him with a shrug and Kageyama shakes his head. He returns to the remaining rooms. In one no different than the others, he thinks he hears a sound from outside and approaches one of the windows. He notices it has finally stopped raining, the moon finally shining through the clouds in the dark. Kageyama stares across the room again. This one had more to it compared to the others. On top of the bed and dresser, there’s a small table across from him, with a small plant on top of it and a painting hanging on one of the walls.

His eyes draw back to the plant. Kageyama walks towards the table, dipping his fingers into the soil. It’s damp. He pulls his fingers back with a frown and searches the room thoroughly.

Partway through, Bokuto’s yell echoes from the front room abruptly. Kageyama runs out to the balcony to see what’s happening and catches four guards surrounding Bokuto and Sugawara in front of the stairs on the first floor. Sugawara is a few steps behind Bokuto, still as the knight holds his lance in front of them.

Kageyama starts running towards the staircase to provide backup, but footsteps behind him grab his attention. He turns around, seeing a man running by him and up the stairs. He must have been hiding in that room he was in! At the top floor, three armed men are descending the stairs. Something akin to instinct takes control of Kageyama’s and he starts for the stairs.

When he reaches the seventh floor, he doesn’t close the distance in time. The man fleeing runs by the armed men as they’re coming down, giving them an order. He must be one of the fugitives if he’s in charge of them.

Akaashi has his bow drawn over the balcony on the sixth floor and takes a shot at one of the men surrounding Bokuto and Sugawara. The arrow pierces into his collarbone and the man goes down with a broken cry. Sugawara calls out a thank you and backs up onto the steps further as Bokuto disarms and kills one of the men in from of him. Akaashi starts running down the staircase to provide extra backup.

Sugawara is safe enough with the other two nearby, so Kageyama doesn’t feel bad breaking up the stairs. He’s not sure if the man on the top floor retreated far for safety or if he has another passageway out of the fort. But in the brief glimpse he caught, Kageyama could tell the man was terrified to get away. He’s confident it’s one of their fugitives.

The three men rush down the staircase ahead of him. Kageyama ducks to the side when one draws a sword and swings it clumsily at him, driving a hard kick into his lower back in response. The force sends the man tumbling down the stairs roughly. The second follows through in his place, another sword aiming for his neck. Kageyama evades it and draws his knife at his hip, closing the gap between them and plunging the knife through his throat. He jerks it out and throws the man’s body down behind him, taking care of the third man with similar ease and reaching the top floor.

“Where are you going!?” He hears Sugawara crying at him from below. He doesn’t have to question whether it’s directed at him, already knowing it is.

Kageyama doesn’t look back or address him, his body running on animal-like instinct to complete the hunt.

* * *

“Shit, what is he doing?” Sugawara cries out.

Akaashi takes aim at the man who rises with shaking legs at the bottom of the staircase Kageyama kicked him down. The man runs towards them and Akaashi's drawstring releases with a snap. He flies backwards again and does not rise this time after hitting the ground, an arrow lodged into his chest.

“He must have seen something,” Akaashi replies. He catches three guards appearing from the left corridor. How many more are there? Kageyama only said there were twelve guards, and he is a bit caught up on the fighting, but this should be the last of them.

Bokuto finishes with the final man in front of him and points his bloodied lance at the new arrivals, who have stopped and are staring at their fallen men. “You see what we’ve already done to your lackeys. You can walk away now if you drop your weapons and tell us who you work for,” Bokuto warns.

“Akaashi, I’m going to-“ Sugawara starts.

“Yell if you need me,” Akaashi finishes, drawing another arrow and aiming it towards the apprehensive men. They have not dropped their weapons yet, but they also make no attempt to attack Bokuto.

“It would be in your best interest to take his advice,” Akaashi addresses the men close behind Bokuto, garnering their attention. Finally, one of them drops their sword to the ground and kicks it out of reach. The others do the same.

Bokuto grins. “You’re smart not to take his odds, this guy has a marksman’s aim!" He brags. Akaashi holds back a sigh. "So tell me guys, who’s the big boss around here?” Bokuto asks amicably, lowering his lance.

Akaashi’s head snaps backwards at the sudden scream of terror from above. It is Sugawara, and Akaashi can confidently say he has never heard such a gut-wrenching sound like that.

Akaashi looks back to Bokuto, also turned around at the sound. He meets Akaashi’s eyes. “Go,” he urges. “We’re fine down here, aren’t we guys?” He asks the men. Bokuto’s rare authoritative nature comes out with the friendly-natured question.

The men nod and Akaashi lowers his bow, running back upstairs. On the top floor he is panting. There is only one door, and it is a couple inches open. Akaashi rushes towards it, palm pressing to the wood and swinging the door open. He could not have been prepared for the sight inside.

It must be the master bedroom, considering its size. Directly in front of him, Akaashi sees a toppled over chair and table. One of the legs of the wooden chair has been broken off. A decanter has shattered to the ground and stained a rug with dark red wine. To his left, a grand bed with pillows scattered about, one of them torn apart and feathers strewn atop. Marks of blood stain the tousled sheets and the pillows. Leaning up against the bed on the ground in front of him, a heavily injured man eyes Akaashi up like a dying animal. Scared, but too wounded to run.

A choked sob from his right grabs Akaashi’s attention. His gaze settles upon Sugawara, kneeling over top of Kageyama’s body. He is rolled on his side, supported shakily by one of Sugawara’s hands while the other hovers above his shoulder blade, glowing with magic. Sugawara is crying, murmuring shaky words to Kageyama's unconscious body. He does not acknowledge Akaashi in any way.

A few feet next to them, another man sits against the wall, his knees pulled tight to his chest and his head in between. His hands are bound and he does not make a sound or move. He appears hurt uninjured.

Akaashi’s footsteps towards Sugawara are quick. Kneeling down, he gets a glimpse of the wound on Kageyama’s back and a coiling dread grabs his stomach.

Sugawara sobs harder, shaking his head. “The idiot. I told him not to do anything reckless, Akaashi. _I told him!_ ” He insists, hysterical.

“I know you did, Sugawara,” Akaashi says. His voice is unsteady and his pulse is racing. The longer he stares at the wound and the amount of blood surrounding them, covering Sugawara's pale hands in bright red stains...

Akaashi turns his head at the sound of footsteps running behind. It is the man who was tucked against the wall a moment ago. He flees the room and Akaashi hears Sugawara curse brokenly.

“Don't let him escape, please!” The healer cries.

Akaashi peers at Kageyama. His stomach is physically sore doing so.

He stands and chases after the man.


	12. Bear the Burden

Sugawara’s eyes are heavy, ready to slip closed at any moment. If he does, he’ll shake his head and maybe whisper a few harsh words of encouragement to himself like the previous times it’s happened. His hands are ice cold right now, his feet almost numb. He has barely moved from the chair next to the bed in the past five hours and his limbs are probably starved for movement to get his circulation flowing again.

But allowing himself sleep right now is not something Sugawara can do.

In front of him, Kageyama lies in a bed unconscious instead of a bloody heap on the floor. He’s been moved to a different room since and rests on his stomach, with his shoulder wound exposed. Sugawara hasn’t bothered to wrap it yet, because whenever he thinks the wound is closed up and can finally be bandaged, it reopens slowly and blood starts to trickle from the gash. Sugawara cries every time it happens, though he told himself he’d stop. His mind has a habit of testing that statement, flashing up the image of Kageyama lying on the ground in a puddle of his own blood. 

Sugawara’s toes curl uncomfortably inside his boots. The familiar thorn behind his eyes signals another wave of tears and at this point, Sugawara’s body doesn’t react with gasps or hiccups like he’s in a fit. The tears simply blur his vision and escape down his cheeks, rolling to his chin and dropping into his lap.

Kageyama stirs and a mumbled sound comes from him. It’s the first sign of responsiveness he’s given since Sugawara found him and it kickstarts something inside of his chest. Hope, maybe?

“Tobio?” Sugawara whispers, his voice heavy with grit. It’s hard to recall the last time Sugawara had a drink of water.

Another muffled sound. Sugawara pauses in his healing to lift Kageyama’s head gently and turn it so he’s facing the healer.

More murmured nonsense. Amidst the rambling, Sugawara picks out a few words. “Promised…him," then indistinct sounds he can’t distinguish as anything. “I promised…”

Sugawara’s face tightens into something stiff. Tears roll down his face.

He’s so tired.

***

Akaashi comes to check up on him. Kageyama has since fallen silent and now lays still. Sugawara hears the quiet footsteps steps, pausing at his side.

“How is he?” The sniper asks.

Sugawara swallows, not looking up. His instinctive answer is _who knows? I’ve done all I can and it’s out of my control now._ What he says aloud is, “Good. He didn’t fuss when I applied his bandages earlier.”

“I see. And what about him?” Akaashi directs behind them.

Another small bed brought from a different room by Bokuto sits not far away, containing their wounded fugitive. Sugawara has given him a fraction of medical attention compared to Kageyama. He can barely glimpse in the man's direction, motionless and on his back with his arms on his sides. He could have been kept on the floor for all Sugawara cares. He knows he’s acting out of emotional outrage and does not seem to be bothered by it.

“Fine,” is all Sugawara says.

Akaashi takes another couple moments to speak. “Bokuto-san and I think it would be best if we stayed here a few days until Kageyama is better.”

Still not looking at Akaashi, Sugawara nods his head. “I do too,” he agrees hollowly. If either of them insisted they try to leave right now anyway, he would have fought tooth and nail. He should be thankful the two of them are being considerate, but there’s a lot of hurt inside of Sugawara and it's tipping him far down one side of the scale.

“Perhaps you should get some rest in one of the other rooms since we will be here awhile then,” Akaashi suggests. Sugawara opens his mouth, but Akaashi continues. “I will watch over them and come get you if needed.”

Funny, Sugawara is always the one to be fretting over everyone else. But with the aftermath of the destroyed village and now, he starts to think the role is starting to slip. What good is a healer who cannot save their wounded? He should be able to do this without growing weary. The offering makes him acutely aware of his exhaustion; the tightness in his legs from sitting so long, almost aching painfully. The way his wrists are sore from hovering above Kageyama’s shoulder for hours. His throat is dry and tight, begging for water to relieve the feeling.

A hand rests on his shoulder. Sugawara blinks up at Akaashi, who stares at Kageyama. “You always do everything you can,” he says, meeting his gaze. “We know. I am certain Kageyama does too.”

It’s simple, but reassuring. Very much in Akaashi’s nature. Sugawara lowers his head, scared he’s going to well up again. Instead, he pulls his hands back from Kageyama and nods.

He leaves a few different potions for Akaashi, explaining what each one of them does and how much to administer. He tells him to wake him if he breaks into sweats, or is tossing and turning, trying to agitate the wound. Akaashi nods along patiently while all of this is explained to him.

As he’s walking to the doorway, Akaashi calls out to him. “What about the other man?” He asks.

Sugawara glares at the bed he lies on. “If he wakes up, restrain him to the bed.”

Akaashi does not reply to the comment.

Walking into the hallway, the night’s actions seem to replay themselves in Sugawara’s head with his gaze trailing to the stairs. He pictures Kageyama bolting up them, fighting through the men and reaching the top floor.

There’s a lot of sadness, but greater guilt. A lot of anger too. Sugawara has already gone through the cycles of things he’d love to yell at Kageyama right now. _What were you thinking!? Why would you do that!? You know how stupid it is to rush into things by yourself without thinking!_

And the counter questions he pose at himself hit Sugawara harder. _Why didn’t you expect this? Why didn’t you bring more medicine? You know all too well how Kageyama is. You should have followed him._

Sugawara opens the door next to their room. As he closes it behind him, the healer brings a hand to his mouth to hold back the sob. A muffled sound comes out.

Sugawara knows he cries too much. It comes with carrying the burdens of the wounded.

* * *

Iwaizumi grunts, ripping his sword free of the bandit’s chest and watching him go down with a stagger. He checks on the others out of habit; Kuroo and Daichi finish another together not far from him. By the carriage, Nishinoya lowers his butterfly swords after taking care of the last of the men surrounding him and the wagon. He’s quite the energetic fighter from the small glances Iwaizumi observed between cutting men down.

Satisfied that everyone is safe, Iwaizumi limps towards the wagon and the adrenaline slowly releases from his body. With it, the pain in his right leg becomes much more apparent. One of the thugs stabbed his thigh with a stupid little knife out of desperation when Iwaizumi knocked him to the ground before killing him. It _hurt_ and now it’s getting harder to keep weight on his right leg with each step. He reaches the wagon and Nishinoya is eyeing his limp and the bloodstain on his pants without a word. Iwaizumi peers inside the wagon, seeing Tanaka and the fugitive sitting tensely. Iwaizumi asks Tanaka to pass his belongings and catches the bag thrown to him.

He removes a small glass bottle, courtesy of Sugawara. He bites the small cork off the glass bottle and spits it on the ground, gulping the entire contents in a few gulps. It’s warm going into his stomach. Next, he grabs his flask of water and pours it over the cut in an effort to clean it. Sugawara would wince if he was here.

“Were you guys running into these idiots on your way out of the city? I swear they’re multiplying like insects,” Iwaizumi comments, running a hand through his hair and taking a breath. Nishinoya is cleaning the blood off his swords with an old rag from the wagon.

“A couple, but none with this many men,” Nishinoya answers, glancing at the strewn bodies. Iwaizumi counts eighteen.

“I don’t get it. The roads are never this bad,” Iwaizumi continues.

“Asahi did tell me things were going to get worse. I wonder if he meant like this,” Nishinoya ponders, tucking his weapons back into the wagon. Iwaizumi thinks back to the letter Kenma wrote Kuroo, specifically one of the lines the dark mage read to him and Daichi.

 _It is likely the city will go into lockdown and the masses into panic_.

Was this connected? Iwaizumi isn’t sure, but he’s keenly aware of the dread building in his body as the thought passes. Kuroo and Daichi approach the wagon and the brigand nods at his leg.

“You good?” He asks.

Iwaizumi tries not to wince as he climbs into the wagon, but the puncture is deep and pain fires up his entire leg with the movement. “Yea, just a small cut,” he answers. It shouldn’t take long for the potion to kick in hopefully.

The others return to the wagon, with Nishinoya sitting in the front steering the horses and donkey. The ride is quiet and Iwaizumi is thankful, hoping they can go the rest of the day without any other violent interruptions. As morning progresses into afternoon, his wishes are granted and in exchange, Iwaizumi finds himself exhausted. He pats his thigh lightly here and there to check for bleeding. The potion seems to have taken care of it and healed the wound partially, leaving the pain no more than a dull ache in his upper thigh.

He decides he’s probably worn from all the long hours of travel on foot with short breaks. His body is finally getting the rest it craves and making him prominently aware of what depriving it does to him.

***

Afternoon rolls into evening and by the time Iwaizumi is lying on his back to sleep, he knocks out within minutes. He wakes up before his shift on watch with a terrible pain settled in his stomach. Iwaizumi notices he’s covered in a layer of sweat, uncomfortably hot.

He sits up with a small grunt and Nishinoya's attention focuses on him from in front of the small fire, his eyes curious. “You don’t look good,” he comments in a hush.

“I’m not,” Iwaizumi grits out, rising and striding away to vomit behind a tree, leaning against the trunk for support. He heaves until there’s nothing left to come up and a new layer of sweat accompanies the first. Iwaizumi is out of breath when he returns to the fire. He accepts the flask of water Nishinoya offers him with a nod in thanks.

After a drink, Iwaizumi searches for another potion in his belongings. He consumes it and settles back down. The medicine numbs his head and Iwaizumi returns to sleep. He doesn’t wake until the sun has risen and offers an apology to Nishinoya for sleeping through his shift. He insists Nishinoya should have woken him, but the swordsmith assures him the extra hours were fine and Iwaizumi obviously needed the rest.

Nishinoya asks him if he’s feeling better and Iwaizumi lies, saying he is. Truthfully, the pain in his leg has grown. He has no appetite this morning, barely chewing down dried meat to get something back into his body. He takes another potion before they set out and the pain subsides enough to ignore. By midday, Iwaizumi is weak, his body accustomed to the medicine.

Daichi notices something is up, and nudges him gently. Iwaizumi's eyes spring open in a startle, not realizing he had them closed in the first place. “What’s the matter?”

Iwaizumi frowns, sighing. “Feels like I’m coming down with a fever or something,” he admits. He knows he’s sweating again.

“We should stop somewhere and get medicine,” Daichi replies.

Iwaizumi shakes his head. “If we stop now, we’ll be even further behind. I can hold off another day.”

Daichi gives him one of his potions as a condolence. It barely does anything this time.

Near sundown, Iwaizumi’s body gives out and he falls unconscious.

* * *

“What… _is_ that?” Daichi asks, sounding equally as grossed out and he is concerned.

Poison, most likely. Kuroo isn’t sure, not well-versed in the coward’s weapon.

He shakes his head. “I don’t know. We need to take him somewhere to get this treated,” Kuroo says, staring at the wound on Iwaizumi’s leg. An odd layer of black ooze is mixed with the coagulated blood on top of the cut.

“We’re still hours away from the Kingdom,” Nishinoya explains cautiously from the front of the wagon.

“Then we go somewhere else,” Kuroo insists, staring at Iwaizumi. Fuck, what more could add to this absolute pile of shit? Why didn’t Iwaizumi say something about this earlier?! They could have detoured off the path and found a town hours ago!

Tanaka holds a map open in front of himself. “There aren't any towns near us,” he says.

Kuroo sighs, knowing this already. The Kingdom is probably the closest place to find any healers, let alone an apothecary, so-

Kuroo blinks. He glances to the map. “Where are we right now?” He asks with haste.

Tanaka points to a space on the paper and Kuroo gets his first small triumph in awhile. He shuffles to the front of the wagon to observe their surroundings. It’s faint with the sun almost fully set, but he spots the dark mass of shadows in the distance. Next to him, Nishinoya eyes him apprehensively.

“Nishinoya, take us over there,” Kuroo points to the makings of a forest far off the path.

“Got it!” The swordsmith agrees without question, jerking the reins to the side abruptly. They veer off the path with a harsh bump and Kuroo near tumbles off the platform, biting back a scowl.

“He does this all the time,” Tanaka explains with a grunt.

Daichi gives Kuroo a questioning look as he sits back down. “What are we going there for?”

“We need herbs or medicine. There’s gotta be something in the reserves we can use to treat the wound. And we have to do it soon,” Kuroo explains, attention settled back on Iwaizumi’s wound again. A stab of worry splits his chest.

None of them practice medicine or healing magic. All of them are aware of this.

The wagon rolls on amidst the silence that follows.

* * *

Yamaguchi stops in front of the large double doors, stretching tall above him. He releases a slow breath and checks his surroundings for the umpteenth time. No one in sight, not even a guard making rounds. He knows there are a few surrounding the gates, but with a majority of the guards gone on their searches, the castle is very quiet.

The longer he stands and stares, his mind poses a question: _How did I get here?_

Maybe he decided to because he’s bored now that he has barely any work to do with the horses gone and the castle feels like a ghost town these days, no matter the time. Maybe it’s because he’s inspired by Tsukishima’s bravery, travelling somewhere far to fulfill his mission. Or maybe it’s because Yamaguchi still hasn’t been able to leave the castle gates due to lockdown and he misses his parents terribly. He can only hope they’ve been okay throughout all of the raids going on. Yamaguchi has heard horror stories in the grapevine of servants in their dining hall and tries to downplay them. Denial can be much easier, but it’s hard to stay in such a state while witnessing the smoke trails in the city skies.

It could also be because Yamaguchi is sick of everything going wrong and wants to be apart of making it right. Maybe it’s because he’s a stable boy- and isn’t that the beauty of it? Maybe, just maybe, there’s something someone as insignificant as a stable boy can do to help things go back to normal.

Any way you look at it, the individual reasons might not fully make sense. But a little bit of everything adds up to one whole and it’s enough for Yamaguchi to finally break his trance of doing nothing. He grasps the handle and walks past the doors into the dim halls of the eastern wing.

The large hall is quiet, the same as the day he was brought to the library. There aren’t any torches lit, making him cautious as he steps forward. Yamaguchi can’t see very well. The door behind him closes with a loud clank and Yamaguchi’s heart leaps in panic, turning around to the source of the sound. Figuring it’s empty since no one calls out to question what he’s doing, Yamaguchi starts jogging towards the familiar doors.

He wastes no time in front of them, opening one of the doors a few inches to peer inside. There aren't any candles lit and Yamaguchi pauses for a bit to listen for movement. Deeming himself in the clear after no sounds, Yamaguchi enters the library.

It’s darker. At least in the hall, the windows let shadows of moonlight into the large area. In here, it's pitch black. He holds his arms out in front of himself and moves forward slowly, trying to remember where the closest table would be. He feels a little ridiculous, blindly swiping for an inanimate object in the dark like this.

Yamaguchi yelps softly when his shin thumps the leg of a table. He pats some more, locating the top of the table. Yamaguchi finds a candle and grips it nervously. Now he needs something to light it… Yamaguchi searches the rest of the table and finds nothing to do so with. He exhales shakily and turns back around. He still can’t see much, so he starts blindly wandering around the rest of the library in search of something to light the candle. He spends a lot of time wandering aimlessly with no results.

After a hard bump to his hip, Yamaguchi grips the railing of the staircase going upstairs.

“Maybe there’s something up here?” Yamaguchi whispers to himself, scared to speak loud in such a mute room. It’s a slow trek up the stairs, and once he’s on the second floor, three windows cut from the stone wall facing him give enough moonlight for him to notice a large desk off to the side, with a small stack of papers, a couple unlit candles and books. He approaches and opens the top drawer, squinting as he shuffles through it. His fingers clank against small things, a couple quills, a bottle of ink and something metal- a key he thinks? He prods his fingers along it and determines yes, some kind of key. But nothing to offer any help lighting his candle.

He moves to the other drawers and finds many stacks of paper. He has no light and Yamaguchi can’t read anyway, so it doesn’t matter what any of it says. Frustrated and thinking he’s hit a dead end with this, Yamaguchi ruffles his hair nervously.

A click sounds off in the distance. Yamaguchi’s skin tingles with panic and for a couple of seconds, he simply stares in the direction it came from, wondering if he’s being paranoid considering the situation. But the sound of one of the doors closing comes louder and Yamaguchi’s skin starts crawling with fear now. Someone? Here right now? But it’s late at night!

Yamaguchi starts towards the stairs and stops after a couple steps. Can’t go down there where the intruder is (he doesn’t stop to consider that _he_ is the intruder) and what if he’s caught? Instead, Yamaguchi peers over the edge of the balcony.

It’s the man! The unknown Lord from the other day who tasked him with preparing the horses, walking across the library with a small candle in his hand. Yamaguchi frowns at him. It’s like the Lord sensed he was here! He stops at one of the tables and grabs a book, tucking underneath his arm holding the candle.

Yamaguchi watches him with a horrific fascination. The man begins heading for the stairs to the second floor and Yamaguchi’s mouth drops in a silent scream.

What would Tsukki do? Probably beat this guy up and sneak off without a trace. Or maybe he’d be stealthy enough to leap over the balcony in one jump- oh no, why did Yamaguchi think he could do something anyway, he should have just minded his own business and not done something _stupid_ -

A voice of reason tells him to _shut up!_ Yamaguchi knows he can’t do any of the stuff Tsukki can! The thought is enough to break his shock and send him into action, turning around and searching for a place-any place to hide. There’s no furniture other than the desk up here, so with nothing left he ducks into the space where the chair is pushed into, curling into the smallest shape possible to fit underneath.

As soon as he’s settled, Yamaguchi decides it’s a laughable hiding spot. He’s totally screwed! The Lord is going to pull out his chair to take a seat and read only to find him tangled in a mess of limbs under his desk. And he’s going to get it- oh god is he ever going to get it. While thinking of the potential consequences, Yamaguchi realizes he’s still gripping the unlit candle and almost releases a panicked shriek of laughter. This couldn’t be more insane.

The glow of the candle comes closer to the desk. Yamaguchi’s pulse is in his ears and it’s loud- _so loud_ the man can probably hear it at this point. The light tap of the candle holder being placed on the desk above him almost makes Yamaguchi startle in a flinch. He free hand covers his mouth and he shuts his eyes tight, as if it would do anything to help his case.

A shift from above him. Yamaguchi’s heart beats multiple times a second now, sweat lining the inside of his clothes and gathering in his face. He swallows dryly and the sound is too loud. Sounds of shuffling and then the drawer shuts. Footsteps start to grow faint and Yamaguchi slowly peels his lids open enough to see the candlelight growing dimmer and dimmer. He bites on his knuckles to keep himself from crying out in relief. The time it takes for the man to finish his business and exit the door could been seconds, minutes or hours. All Yamaguchi knows is, it couldn’t have come quicker.

And with the door clicking giving his release, Yamaguchi pushes the chair out and crawls from underneath the desk, taking deep breaths. At first, he stays on his hands and knees next to it, panting and trying to come back to reality. He feels like the luckiest man in the land right now- even though he’s equally as scared, arms trembling to support his weight. Yamaguchi’s next instinct is to bolt, but he stands and his gaze returns to the desk instead, where the man was sifting through. He reaches forward slides it open once again.

Patting around, he feels the quills and the ink. His hand pauses at the lack of a key. He took it?

Yamaguchi purses his lips. The idea comes and he covers his face.

 _I’m just a stable boy,_ he tries to protest.

He thinks of Tsukishima when he said that before he left. How he looked like Yamaguchi threw an insult at him, or maybe a punch.

“I’m so scared Tsukki,” Yamaguchi whimpers to himself.

Still, he runs down the stairs, cracks the door open and eases out. To his left near the end of the hall, Yamaguchi catches the candlelight, trailing in its small glow. Yamaguchi settles behind a pillar from his far distance, observing the Lord stop at a door near the very end of the hall. He thinks the man puts the key in and unlocks it, entering and shutting the door behind him with a soft click.

Yamaguchi decides it’s the most he’s willing to put himself through and heads in the opposite direction, off to his sleeping quarters in the servant’s wing with his heart still beating loud enough to hear.

* * *

Oikawa falls backwards onto the bed with a happy sigh. Oh, how nice it is to have his own space again! The sad days (though minimal) of sleeping on the awful couch have come to an end. Now, he has the luxury of a bed and a room all to himself. It’s not the biggest and it doesn’t have the silk sheets he’s used to, but it’ll do for the time being. Oikawa rolls onto his stomach, arms wrapping around the pillow and nuzzling his face into it gently. Another contentful sigh releases from him.

The one thing that would make this complete is a cup of wine in his hand, but Oikawa has long since explored every room and found nothing but gross ale barrelled in the kitchen. One sip of it and Oikawa pursed his lips in disgust, shoving it off to Hinata. He wasn’t desperate to get drunk. Yet.

Oikawa blinks at the room around him. Nothing special, but it’s definitely bigger and nicer than he expected. Truthfully, the whole place was out of his expectations. Oikawa was ready for a run-down house at best. Five mercenaries living together? Well, he didn’t have high hopes going in.

Hours of travel and searching a forest led their group into a clearing to a fort settled in the open space. It wasn’t big to someone like Oikawa. Yeesh, his nephew could probably buy a place like it if he saved up his gold for the next few months. But it was bigger than Oikawa expected and well, much nicer than the hellhole house in the city. Very bland on the inside though.

“Seriously, Iwa-chan could at least try to liven the place up. A couple paintings, maybe a rug,” Oikawa ponders aloud, observing the bare space. Aside from the bed Oikawa lays on, there’s a small wooden nightstand next to him with an oil lamp on it. A small chest is tucked against the wall across from him, containing an oddly large number of weapons, a couple letters and a few other random things meaning nothing to Oikawa. A wooden wardrobe is next to it, containing spare outfits. Oikawa has already taken the liberty of borrowing one. The trousers are a little short on him and the shirt is a bit big, but he’s pleasantly comfy. Not that he would admit it out loud.

Oikawa rolls onto his back, holding the pillow to his chest while staring at the ceiling. Earlier he wanted alone time to himself. They’re lucky this to be in a space with enough rooms for each one of them to be separate, so it’s easy to do. Now that Oikawa has spent some time going through the things in Iwaizumi’s room and had space from the others to recharge, he’s feeling bored and ready to see them. Bug them, maybe? He isn’t certain.

He glances out of the window at the night sky. Oikawa can make out shadows of the tops of trees, and can’t help wondering why anyone would want to live in the middle of a huge forest. It took them much longer than it should have to locate the fort because of how big it is.

His face scrunches up. Living this far from cities, a shop or more importantly- a brothel!? Ugh, he doesn’t get it. Oikawa fails to understand what could be enjoyable about living in such a remote place. He mulls on whether it would be worse to live in the cramped one-bedroom shithouse in the city or out in the middle of nowhere here.

“Definitely worse in the city,” Oikawa whispers to himself, sitting up and throwing the pillow on the head of the bed. The thought of being in that space again nearly sends a shiver down his spine. Oikawa stands up, walking over to the door and opening it. He trails down the dark corridor, entering an open communal space. At least there’s a bit of thought put into this room- a few old couches, an old rug and a small uneven, wooden table with a couple candles. Kenma looks up from his curled position on one of the couches, before returning to his book. He's better since the night of their escape, having slept almost all day to recover his energy.

“Are you done snooping through other people’s things?” Kenma asks.

Oikawa strolls towards him, a smug smile on his face. “For now. These guys are pretty boring if you ask me. They have nothing worth blackmailing over.”

Kenma gives him a neutral stare of disapproval. Hinata walks into the room from another doorway on the opposite side of the room, holding a plate of dried meat and chewing a piece. He’s been snacking on the stores in the fort constantly, the little glutton.

“Who’s blackmailing?” Hinata asks curiously, approaching Kenma and pausing next to him to offer his plate. The brunet picks off a piece of meat and chews on it slowly while the Prince sits across from him in another couch, supporting the plate on his lap.

“No one, they’re all a bunch of vanilla beans,” Oikawa pouts, strolling towards Hinata and reaching for a piece of meat. He picks one off and receives a light glare from Hinata. “You offered him one!” The advisor protests, thumbing at Kenma.

“You wouldn’t train with me earlier,” Hinata huffs back, scooting further down the couch with his plate.

Oikawa rolls his eyes, chewing on the meat. It’s tough. “You have a personal knight for training,” he reminds.

“Still, it’s not fair!” Hinata continues, hung up on the subject.

Oikawa holds back a sigh, leaning into the couch. Sometimes he’d like to slap the kid up the head.

“Shouyou, let me look at your wound,” Kenma interjects. “I want to know how it’s healing.”

Hinata gives a small sound of protest, agreeing reluctantly and Oikawa meets Kenma’s gaze. Oikawa is thankful for the distraction. He watches Hinata sit next to Kenma and then turns his head away as the patch is removed.

“Can you blink?” He hears Kenma asks.

A hush across the room and Oikawa grows a little curious. Only a little.

“Oikawa, grab a candle and come close. I need more light,” Kenma requests.

Oikawa gives Kenma a pointed stare, who returns it with a reminder- _I just did you a favour._

“Sure,” Oikawa mutters, having absolutely no desire to see Hinata’s wound up close. He walks over to pick up the small candle on a side table, pausing in front of the pair and actively looking in a different direction.

“The candle hurts,” Hinata winces. “It’s too bright.”

Oikawa goes to move back, but Kenma tells him to remain. “It won't take long Shouyou. Try to bear with it a little longer,” he urges.

When Hinata whines again in protest, Oikawa spares a peek. Kenma has Hinata’s chin gripped and angled towards the light source while he examines, giving a very detailed visual of the eye. The cut begins above his brow and ends at the top of his cheekbone. The skin is nearly recovered, the thin flesh of a scar already forming down the entire strip. The eye itself is a different story. It's watering so much that tears are leaking out of it. It’s almost like a cloudy haze has settled over the outer layer, dulling the chestnut hue down to something muddy.

Kenma nods at Oikawa and he backs away, placing the candle down on the side table. Hinata sniffles, presumably wiping the tears away.

“Well?” The Prince asks.

“If you’re sensitive to sources of light now, it appears to be progressing. Let’s do a quick healing session,” Kenma suggests.

Hinata seems surprised to hear the prognosis, perking up. “Okay.”

Oikawa sits back in the couch opposite to them, having scooped another piece of meat from Hinata and chewing on it. He’s keenly aware of the tingle of envy hatching in the back of his mind and the way Oikawa suddenly wants to antagonize Hinata. He decides to step outside to clear his head before he feeds into the thoughts more, assuring Kenma and Hinata he isn’t going far as they give him questioning looks.

Outside of the fort, a small platform extends in front of him before the stone stairs descend to the ground. Oikawa hears one of the horses snort from behind the building in the small stable. Seconds later, the drawn-out coo of an owl. Oikawa approaches the edge of the platform, folding his arms over the stone railing and leaning against them. He closes his eyes and listens to the sounds of nature. He can hear leaves rustling, the wind tousling them around each other in overlapping whispers. Another owl, and now he hears some kind of bugs chirping. Cicadas, maybe? Oikawa wouldn’t know, never having any interest in bugs.

He sighs, but the sounds are relaxing and he doesn’t completely hate it. An unknown time passes and Oikawa lifts his head, opening his eyes and looking out to the dark, vast forest. Faintly in the distance, a small glow is visible.

He blinks; a moment of shock to process. Oikawa tails it back inside immediately, rushing for Hinata and Kenma. He tells them to put the candles and any others out, and to wake Asahi up now. The two scatter without any word of protest, Kenma taking care of the candles and Hinata running to find the knight. Oikawa goes to Iwaizumi’s room quickly, opening his chest and grabbing one of the knives he saw earlier. He returns to the front room and Asahi is present with the others, slightly disheveled from sleep and sword in hand. Oikawa points for him to station around the corner near the front entrance. He sends Hinata and Kenma behind one of the couches and presses himself against the wall next to the doorway. He starts hearing low sounds of voices and with it, a nervousness settles in.

Shit, how could they get found out so quickly? The safe-house in the city surely would have been easier to find than some fort in the middle of a forest. Oikawa grips the knife tighter to himself, taking a slow and controlled breath to focus. Stupid! But, no time to panic. Oikawa shuts his eyes, hears the low hushes of the men again. Their steps are moving up the stairs, very slow. Oikawa tries not to frown. It’ll be any second now.

“Kuroo- watch his leg!” A familiar voice scolds quietly from outside of the fort.

Oikawa’s eyes open. His brows furrow.

“Fuck, Iwaizumi you idiot!” Another responds.

Oikawa’s feet move quicker than his mind, grabbing the handle of the door and swinging it open. At the top of the platform, the three mercenaries who were sent east stand in a row together. Kuroo and Daichi startle at the sight of him, shock flickering over their expressions. Iwaizumi is sandwiched in the middle, his weight supported completely by Kuroo and Daichi. His head is hung low and he's unresponsive. Next to them, the short swordsmith who is good friends with Hinata stands with one of their fugitives and another man with a shaved head he doesn't recognize holds a torch.

They all share a silent stare down. Behind him, Oikawa hears the shuffling of feet as the others grow curious.

“You’re here,” is all Oikawa dumbly manages, remaining fixated on Iwaizumi and noticing an uneasy train of thought in his mind the longer he observes.


	13. Safe Haven

Kenma’s eyes raise from the exposed wound on Iwaizumi’s leg to the two pairs staring across the examination table from him. One pair is patient, holding concern but keeping it hidden well. The other pair…is ready to strike Kenma down if he says the wrong thing.

“It’s poison,” he diagnoses quietly. He focuses down on to the stab wound. Only a few inches wide but fairly deep into the leg, shy of the femoral artery. He doesn’t explain had the artery been cut and he went this long without treatment, Iwaizumi would be dead. Not that he appears promising right now.

He doesn’t say that aloud earlier.

“Can you treat it?” Daichi voices unsurely, his voice low. A man who knows it’s bad, but not enough to fully understand the severity.

Kenma’s eyes stay fixated on the leg. “The wound itself is not the issue. My concerns lie with the poison and how long it’s been in his body. I’m afraid I am no toxicology expert either,” he admits.

“So what are you saying, he’s fucked?” Kuroo bites out as if Kenma is the one responsible for this outcome.

The brunet flinches at the harshness and wants to coil into himself. “I’m saying I’ll do what I can, but I don’t know if it will be enough.”

Silence fills the room.

Daichi’s voice breaks it, soft and pleading. “Anything you can do, please try. Use any of Sugawara’s equipment, the cabinet behind you is stocked with herbs and medicine.”

Kenma nods. “I will. I only ask to be left alone while working.”

“Not happening,” Kuroo protests right away.

Kenma hears exhaustion in Daichi’s voice. “This isn’t the time-“

“I don’t care. I’m not leaving him alone,” Kuroo interrupts.

Kenma finally looks up and meets the fiery gaze in Kuroo’s eyes again. He stares like Kenma is going to provoke him at any second, bristling as an angry cat would. Ready to bite if he tries anything.

Kenma sighs. “You think I’m going to hurt him?” He asks curiously.

“What? Kenma would never!” Shouyou urges from across the room.

“That’s not what he’s saying,” Daichi cuts in, gripping Kuroo’s shoulder in warning. The dark mage refuses to back down.

“I could leave him here to die if you prefer,” Kenma says, patience wearing thin. “Or you can let me try to heal your friend.”

Perhaps the words were too harsh, he thinks after they leave his mouth. It might as well have been an attack, rendering Kuroo still like Kenma struck a low blow on him. He glares at Kenma, hard and long, then pulls free of Daichi’s grasp and walks away.

Daichi sighs. “If there’s anything we can do to help, let us know,” he says, following Kuroo.

“Me-ow, kitty has some claws,” Oikawa says, the teasing too forced to have any merit. He walks over to Shouyou, slinging an arm around his shoulders. “Come on, Chibi-chan, let’s go meetup with our other friends. We have some catching up to do, hm?”

Kenma doesn’t watch them leave, already getting to work on a deeper examination of the leg. Iwaizumi’s pants have been cut off at the top of his thighs, allowing Kenma to see dark bruising around the stab wound, about the size of a closed fist. The skin is black and swelling beneath the surface, an oddly sickening sight. Kenma hovers a flat hand above the wound and whispers spells to himself, watching a glow emit from his hand.

He can feel the poison concentrated in a thick mass surrounding the wound. It’s big, probably what all the bruising is coming from, and continuing to spread. Kenma’s hands slowly moves up the leg, feeling trails- vines almost, of poison trailing far up near his hips and down to his knee.

Worrying his lip between teeth, Kenma lowers his hand and stands from the stool, walking to the medicinal cabinet. It’s got a decent amount of contents within it, some of which appear naturopathic. He recognizes a few dried herbs and grinds them down into a stone bowl. Returning to Iwaizumi, Kenma dips his fingers in the herb mixture and coats the wound. Iwaizumi’s hands twitches at his side. He sets the bowl down on a small table next to him with fresh bandages and hovers his hands above Iwaizumi’s hip.

He plans to cut off the spread going upwards before it infects any vital organs. Kenma's medical knowledge is mainly limited to theory. That is, he is very knowledgeable about magic and its healing properties, but his experience is small. Shouyou's eye had been the worst injury he's seen and treated until now.

Kenma concentrates his healing magic and whispers the spells he’s rehearsed near all his life to start the process. Twenty minutes in, he can tell it is going to be a slow battle getting rid of the poison, judging by the amount of energy it’s taking to treat the section. In under an hour he is able to purify the poison out of his hips and the top of his thighs. However, pulling away to take a breather and glance down at Iwaizumi’s thigh, Kenma observes the prominent, black bruising blossoming down his leg.

He’s not working quick enough. Kenma pants and runs a hand through his hair. He’s going to have to tackle this with greater aggression if he wants to save the leg. Truthfully, Kenma doesn’t know if it’s possible to save the limb at this point. Maybe it would be easier to declare the leg dead and amputate it.

The longer Kenma thinks about it, the more certain he becomes. Yes, amputating would be the easier route, but is the easier method the best choice? If he tries a different method of removing the poison and fails, he might end up making Iwaizumi suffer greater than necessary. Worse yet, he may die.

Kenma sighs, standing and returning to the cabinet. He scans the various labelled mixtures, searching until he picks out the best option. Kenma removes two bottles labelled _poppy tears_ and places one on the table with his other supplies.

He pops the remaining bottle open and forces the whole contents down Iwaizumi’s mouth easily. Kenma ties off his hair with a leather band around his arm and takes a deep breath. He wipes the herbs off of Iwaizumi’s wound with a clean bandage, which doesn’t appear to have done much after all.

Kenma hovers his hands directly above the wound and closes his eyes in concentration. The glow returns, emitting brighter. Kenma takes a few breaths and rotates his wrists in small movements. Slowly, the mass starts edging towards him, stretching while tethered to the bone and muscle it attached itself to. Kenma’s jaw clenches tightly, increasing his magic to keep it moving. The edges of the black, hardened mass begin protruding from the wound and Iwaizumi groans mildly.

Kenma is panting hard now. He knows it’s going to be a nasty removal to get the poison out from the root. But this is what has to be done. His fingers stretch and curl slowly, and the mass rocks forward. The piece grows wider as it pushes forward out of the wound and it tears the cut on Iwaizumi’s leg open further.

Iwaizumi cries out louder this time. Kenma pauses and swallows thickly, watching blood trail down the curve of his thigh. If he keeps going, he could cause serious damage to the leg. What does he do now? Panicking will get him nowhere, but the unknown time limit over his head continues to count down and Kenma has no idea when it will hit zero. He is beginning to doubt it’s far from getting there.

He pulls his hands back and cleans off the blood with a bandage, tossing the saturated cloth to the ground. If only the chunk of poison was smaller, or in a different shape maybe-

Kenma’s eyes widen. That’s it.

He pushes the stool out and kneels so he can examine the wound up close. Kenma closes an eye and points his index finger directly at the piece of hardened poison poking out of the stab wound. He murmurs a spell and a string of light strikes through the center on the mass with ease. Iwaizumi moans lazily, sounding more and more disoriented. The poppy tears are obviously working.

Kenma’s other fingers curl out and the thread of light magic expands around the mass like a web woven by a spider. It encapsulates the poison and slowly, Kenma’s hands begins to curl inward. The light and healing magic act like an extension of his senses when combined. He can feel the chunk of poison resisting the magic web weaving tighter around the mass, like it’s _pulsating_ in protest. Kenma winces and ups the intensity of the magic. Iwaizumi coos out in a dazed pain- one that tells Kenma it hurts even with the sedation. How much longer his body will tolerate this, Kenma is unsure.

 _Come on_ , he can do this. He doesn’t want to attack so aggressively the mass explodes in his leg. It would be a one-way trip towards death. A thick bead of sweat drips down the side of Kenma’s temple. He exhales shakily, trying to reset himself.

The pulsating continues. It’s like a living organism, trying to thrive off the host. Kenma’s head begins to sway lightly at the thought. The chunk would continue to grow larger and larger, thriving off the life of Iwaizumi.

Kenma makes a small, frustrated sound to clear his head. He adds pressure and the response almost makes him pull his hand back. Iwaizumi lets a loud yell out, the medicine not numbing this level of pain. He should have administered extra poppy tears earlier-

But Kenma forces through it. He’s almost got it, _he knows_. He can’t stop now, his fingers almost balled into a fist and he can _feel_ the mass giving, slow hairlines cracks ticking into its structure.

Iwaizumi whimpers and with a final blow, the mass splinters into numerous small pieces. The webbing of magic around it keeps the pieces contained centralized to the stab wound. Kenma hears Iwaizumi’s head thudding to the table and his voice dies off into garbled nonsense. He’s sweating profusely.

A sound comes from the doorway and Kenma looks up to Kuroo standing in it, hand against the frame with Daichi behind moments later, holding him steady and panting. Kenma stares in return. Kuroo has distrust in his eyes, maybe expecting something different than what he’s currently examining. Daichi is surely frustrated with his friend’s behaviour, but Kenma can sense a looming curiosity in him as well.

Kenma picks up another fresh bandage and presses it to Iwaizumi’s wound to catch blood. “The worst is over,” he assures, catching his breath. Oddly enough, a small smile comes to his face. “I’m confident I can deal with the rest and he’ll be okay.”

Relief sweeps over their postures and expressions. Daichi bows his head. “Kenma, you have no idea what this means to us. Thank you.”

He gives a single nod. Kenma watches Daichi pull at Kuroo, but the dark mage remains firm in place. Kenma can’t get a read on him and stays mute.

“I’ll get you some food and water,” Kuroo mumbles, and walks out of the doorway without missing a beat. Daichi’s gaze follows him with furrowed eyebrows and he excuses himself.

Oikawa is the one who brings in the dried fruit and water shortly thereafter. He places them on a small wooden table with a few plants on it at the side of the room and remains in the spot with his back to Kenma, thumbing one of the leaves on the strange plant.

“So, what’s the verdict, doc? The others said he’s going to be fine.”

“Well,” Kenma starts, wiping at his face with his sleeve. “At first I thought it was going to have to be amputated, but it’s promising now.”

“Huh, that bad?” Oikawa ponders aloud thoughtfully. Kenma gathers his voice carries something heavy.

“I’ve never seen such an infection,” Kenma confirms.

Oikawa finally spares a glance over and asks if he can see. Kenma warns him it’s not a pleasant sight, but Oikawa insists he can handle it. Kenma nods and Oikawa steps around. He peels the blood-soaked bandage off and Oikawa is silent next to him as he takes it in. Kenma thinks it would be intrusive if he tried to observe his reaction, already having a guess in mind.

“I’m going to keep working,” Kenma says. “I’ll take a break shortly,” he lies.

“Oh, right. Good luck,” Oikawa says distantly, the way one might act when they’re obviously distracted. He heads for the doorway.

Kenma takes a breath and starts removing the shards one-by-one with his magic.

***

The sun is rising as the final shard comes out. It drops to the ground with a light sound and with its removal, something unravels within Kenma. He feels wetness on his face, on top of the sweat. Raising a hand to brush the blurriness from his sight, Kenma sniffles.

It could be because of the exhaustion, or the fact that he’s never felt so invested into healing someone until now. Tears continue to fall as he treats the smaller poisoned areas down his leg, closer to his knee. Purifying the rest of the leg takes time and Kenma closes the wound once finished. He wipes at his eyes with his sleeve but his vision grows disoriented seconds later. He wishes he could stop, but his body defies it and continues to relieve the overwhelming feeling through his tears.

Kuroo visits again and clears his throat awkwardly in the doorway. Kenma peers up and swallows thickly, unsure what to say. Kuroo’s eyes trail to the untouched water and fruit.

“You’ve been going at it nonstop, haven’t you?” He asks quietly.

Kenma nods, blinking and feeling another tear roll down his face.

Kuroo seems to stiffen, eyes travelling from his face to Iwaizumi’s still body.

Kenma shakes his head, sniffling. “He’s okay, other than the fever. It might be some time before he’s in fighting shape, but the wound should heal fully in a few days.”

Kuroo meets his gaze and walks around to his side. One of the many shards crunch under his boot and Kuroo catches the others on the ground, alongside the used, bloodied bandages. “Is this the poison?” He asks with slight horror, bending down to pick up a hardened shard.

“Yes. I had to extract it directly to save the leg," Kenma answers, his voice is raspy. Dehydration, most likely.

He watches Kuroo walk over to the table and pick up the water, bringing it to him. He's cautious as he passes it off. Kenma is too tired to mind, taking greedy gulps.

“That must have been…tough,” Kuroo says.

Kenma gives a hum of agreement as he finishes the water in seconds. He looks into the empty cup. “It was.”

“I drew you a bath. It’s ready anytime,” the dark mage continues. His voice is low and choppy, as if he’s uncomfortable.

Kenma nods to himself. “Thank you,” he murmurs, wiping at his face and sniffling. He pushes forward to stand from the stool and his eyesight grows fuzzy for a few seconds. He grips the edge of the examination table in support.

A hand curls around his arm gently above the elbow. “I’ll help you.”

Kenma stares up at Kuroo, a pinched line between his eyebrows. “I don’t need it,” he insists.

“Yes you do.”

“No I don’t.”

“Don’t be stubborn,” the taller man grumbles, averting his gaze.

Kenma also looks away and sighs. He walks with Kuroo’s hand still on his arm and allows himself to be led towards the bathing room. He thinks the exhaustion is what allows him to not pay much attention to it, normally quick to avoid contact.

Kenma eyes the steaming water up greedily inside the bathroom. Kuroo drops his arms. “I’ll clean up the mess in the examination room and get Iwaizumi moved. Don’t fall asleep in here,” he warns.

Kenma nods. He hears the man’s footsteps retreating, then they stop.

“Thank you. For saving him,” he hears from behind.

Kenma glances over his shoulder at Kuroo. He wants to say something nice in response. It’s the first thing Kuroo has said without a sneer or suspicious overtones towards him.

Instead, Kenma brushes past the thanks. “Have someone give him a mouthful of poppy tears every few hours. He’ll need it,” he explains, returning to the bath and removing the band in his hair.

Kuroo stands in place a moment longer. For a second, Kenma senses distrust despite his sound of agreement. Kenma can’t say it’s unfair of him to feel such a way.

* * *

Iwaizumi is in and out of consciousness for hours. Sometimes he thinks he’s waking in dreams, others he’s unsure whether he’s in reality and not. His fever breaks him into sweats often, feeling overheated and uncomfortable. It’s never enough to drag him fully awake, as if his body won’t allow any energy other than vital organs to be expended. A noticeable ache is somewhere on his body, but he’s too out of it to piece it together.

At times he hears a low voice and Iwaizumi’s state of in between consciousness does not grant him the gift of processing the words as anything tangible. He doesn’t realize he’s murmuring nonsense in response and being laughed at from the real world. But he shivers with delight when something cold brushes at the sides of his face. He feels the sensation strongly and suddenly he’s right below the surface of waking up, but the relief is greatly welcomed and Iwaizumi exhales in appreciation. His body settles down and Iwaizumi sinks back into a calm sleep within minutes.

He thinks the cloth touches the rest of his face and neck at other times too, but Iwaizumi is never certain if it’s a dream or not. Sometimes it’s clear for him to tell what’s fake- like the dreams of a low, sweet voice singing to him and his mind constructs the image of warm Spring afternoons with the sweet smell of flowers in the air, mixed with a hint of rain. The taste of sweet berries on his mouth and the touch of warm hands on his face. There’s something very tender about the dream. And vivid.

Iwaizumi’s eyes open finally and the darkness of night surrounds him. He’s pretty sure this time he’s really awake, lying in a bed. It takes time to adjust and eventually he recognizes his room. Iwaizumi wrinkles his face, trying to piece together how he got here. Maybe he is still dreaming?

Sleep-induced hallucination or not, Iwaizumi’s body is overheated and he tries to kick the blankets off himself in an attempt to take care of the unbearable sweats. The movement invites a tight pain into his thigh and Iwaizumi groans loudly. Somewhere next to him, a shuffle is heard and he turns his head towards the source, squinting uselessly in the dark. There’s more shuffling and Iwaizumi grimaces at his small oil lamp being lit atop the nightstand next to his bed. It’s not much light at all, yet his blind eyes are startled by the brightness.

Next, he takes in the one who lit the lamp and has to blink. Iwaizumi rolls slowly onto his back, settling in place with a sigh. He barely opens his eyes, tilting his head to stare at Oikawa again and thinks, _Yep, this still a dream._

“Hey sleepy, you didn’t wake me for nothing, did you?” Oikawa asks in a hush.

Sure feels real. Iwaizumi tries to sit up; Alerted and attempting to do something, a pitiful attempt by most standards. “What the f-“

Firm hands press him down slowly before he can fully rise. “Sh, lay down. You’re fine,” Oikawa assures him.

“I feel like shit,” Iwaizumi huffs out, breathing a little harder than necessary. His body is on fire.

Oikawa chuckles, and Iwaizumi hears a small popping sound. Oikawa tells him to drink and holds a small bottle to his mouth, giving him a sip. He accepts it wordlessly. Iwaizumi watches Oikawa cap the medicine and focus his attention on something on the ground. He hears small splashing of water excess being rung out of a cloth.

“You’re getting through a fever. Left your leg untreated and turns out you got poisoned. Tsk, tsk Iwa-chan,” Oikawa tuts.

Iwaizumi grunts, closing his eyes at the familiar, gentle touch wiping at his face. Not a fever dream after all? Though, his head is still swimming with fogginess and it sure feels like it at the moment. Iwaizumi isn’t sure anymore.

“Not intentional. Guy caught me by surprise,” he explains as short as possible. It takes to much energy to speak much right now. He can’t say he enjoys being in such a vulnerable state around Oikawa, waiting for the snarky comments and nasty smirks to come any second now. “Where are the others?”

“Asleep in the other rooms I’m sure.”

Iwaizumi makes a sound of acknowledgement. “Should I bother asking why you’re in my home too?”

“We can talk more in the morning. For now, just focus on getting rest.”

“’M thirsty,” Iwaizumi comments.

He hears shuffling and opens his eyes to a flask being held to his lips. Iwaizumi tries to grasp it himself and Oikawa bats his hand away lightly. Once he gets his fill, he glances at Oikawa and notices his head growing lighter and lighter. He wonders briefly what kind of potion Oikawa gave him earlier.

“Bring me food in the morning.”

“So demanding! Maybe if you’re nice and say please and thank you,” Oikawa teases.

“Guess I’ll starve,” he returns flat.

“Iwa-chan!” The brunet protests in disapproval.

Iwaizumi huffs a laugh, closing his heavy lids. “How’s the Prince?”

“Ch, really,” Oikawa crosses his arms, putting the oil lamp out. “Asking about the Prince- worry about yourself right now Iwaizumi.”

He assumes Oikawa lays down with the small shuffling he hears on the ground and Iwaizumi opens his eyes. The ceiling is swirling in semi-circles as if he’s spinning. “It’s a fever dream,” he decides.

Oikawa’s voice comes quiet. “What?”

Iwaizumi closes his eyes, head full of air and dormancy begins to pull him down. “That’s the first time you’ve ever called me by name,” he mumbles, sleep wrapping itself entirely over him all at once.

***

He wakes. The sun is up and Oikawa is gone. The pain in his leg is flaring. He tosses restlessly and falls asleep in pain. An unknown time passes and he wakes to the smell of something baking. He has faint thoughts of Sugawara’s cooking, then remembers where he is as he comes to. He blinks at Oikawa in a chair next to his bed with a slice of freshly baked bread on a plate. Iwaizumi turns his head away at it immediately, remembering his request the previous night but now suddenly repulsed by the idea of eating.

Oikawa frowns. “You’ve been bedridden for almost two days and sick longer. You have to eat something if you want to get better,” he reasons.

“I can’t stomach it.”

“It’s only a little bit of food,” Oikawa insists.

Iwaizumi frowns. “I’m going to throw it up.”

Oikawa starts breaking the bread into small pieces. “There’s a bucket nearby.”

Iwaizumi isn’t expecting him to act so patient with him. “Fine,” he grumbles.

He glares at the piece of bread Oikawa brings to his mouth. “I can feed myself,” Iwaizumi mutters.

Oikawa ignores him, squishing the bread against his lips until Iwaizumi reluctantly parts them enough to let it through. He chews the warm bread slowly.

Oikawa smiles in satisfaction. “How are you feeling?”

“Shitty. Is there any meat?”

Oikawa laughs. “If you finish this and are still hungry, I’ll get you some later.”

Iwaizumi is silent and leering, but accepts the second piece of bread held to his lips without protest this time.

“Why are you here?” He mumbles with a mouthful. “Did something happen to Prince Hinata?”

Oikawa’s face scrunches up in mild distaste. “Chibi-chan needed a place to lay low until the fugitives were brought in. We took up residency in the city, but the raids started and we decided it would be safer to leave completely.”

“And it somehow lead to sneaking into my fort?” Iwaizumi ponders.

“ _Your_ fort, huh?” Oikawa comments, feeding him another piece. "Not bad for a man like you."

Iwaizumi glares.

“You don’t have to look like an angry animal.”

“I thought for a bit there you were actually a decent person.”

Oikawa grins. “Aw, I’m a really good guy once you get to know me!”

“Not sure I’m interested after our first encounters.”

“Jeez, Iwa-chan way to hold a grudge. Maybe I want to try giving you another chance, hm?” Oikawa saying, feeding him another piece.

Iwaizumi eyes his fingers, getting an urge to bite them. “You? Giving _me_ another chance?” He repeats.

Oikawa rolls his eyes. “Alright, I admit I wasn’t the best host-“

“A gross understatement.”

Oikawa’s smile is growing tight. “I’m trying here, Iwa-chan.”

“And stop with the stupid nickname!” Iwaizumi tacks on.

Oikawa waves him off with his free hand as he holds the last piece to Iwaizumi’s mouth. “Come on, isn’t it cute? Friends give each other endearing names, don’t they?”

“Who said we were friends?”

“I did!”

Iwaizumi decides to bite his fingers this time.

Oikawa, yelps, dropping the bread and wrenching his arm away. He frowns, placing the plate on the night stand and rising to his feet. “Maybe you need to get some more rest,” he grits out, reaching for the bottle of poppy tears on his nightstand.

Iwaizumi eyes it up with weariness. “I don’t want them,” he protests. The pain in his legs begs to differ, but this is a matter of pride right now. He doesn’t want the medicine if it’s coming from him.

“So you’re going to be difficult for the sake of being difficult, huh?” Oikawa says with a hand on his hip, seeing right through him.

“Fuck off.”

“You’re much nicer when you’re high out of your mind, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa continues, stepping towards the edge of the bed.

“Get away from me, Trashykawa!” Iwaizumi tries to threaten, though he pushes himself further into the bed to put space between them. His thigh throbs in protest. “I don’t want it!”

“Hm, that’s a new one,” Oikawa muses, unphased and tossing the bottle up lightly in the air and catching it. “We can do this the easy way, or the hard way,” Oikawa warns, something oddly authoritative in his voice considering the situation.

Iwaizumi bares his teeth, refusing to back down. “I pick the hard way.”

Oikawa clicks his tongue. “Suit yourself,” he says, leering with a predatory smirk.

Iwaizumi should have known better than thinking he would stand a chance. Oikawa isn’t a small man, and he is the much healthier of the two currently. It takes him no time to have both of Iwaizumi’s arms pinned under his knees, on either side of his chest. Oikawa is careful not to agitate his leg, resting most of his weight on Iwaizumi’s chest.

He grips Iwaizumi’s jaw, holding it in place. Iwaizumi wrenches free for a moment and Oikawa’s hand goes for it tighter this time, clenching hard enough to hurt and forcing his chin up at the brunet. Something strange happens as Iwaizumi makes eye contact with the smug bastard. It’s as if his heart just got flicked and his lungs compressed down swiftly. Well, maybe they are with Oikawa’s weight on his chest like this. Iwaizumi grunts, attempting to wiggle an arm out. A fruitless effort.

Oikawa’s other hand uncorks the bottle. “Open your mouth like a good boy Iwa-chan,” he instructs with an awful gloating in his tone. He’s a power tripping _monster_ , Iwaizumi wants to yell. He seriously considers spitting up at him, but keeps his lips pursed instead to stay defiant.

His silence comes as a gladly accepted challenge to Oikawa, who leans down closer above him. He pauses so close in front of Iwaizumi he can see the dark, thick eyelashes curling towards him. One of the fingers holding his jaw in place strokes his stubbled skin lightly.

“You know, you look pretty good underneath me like this Iwaizumi,” Oikawa murmurs, words soft and voice rich.

It gets Oikawa the reaction he wants. Maybe something further than intended if you consider the wracking thump Iwaizumi’s heart gives against his chest. Or the prickle in his lower body at the sound of Oikawa’s voice, so low and debauched he almost curls his toes. Iwaizumi’s eyes grow large and his jaw slacks enough for Oikawa to force two fingers into his mouth, keeping it open while he pours the poppy tears down his throat. Oikawa presses the hand over Iwaizumi’s mouth once it’s in and he swallows the mixture down reluctantly, feeling defeated in more ways than one right now.

Oikawa stays in place on top of Iwaizumi, hand over his mouth. Slowly, he eases off the pressure. “There, was that really so bad?” He taunts, withdrawing his hand slowly.

Iwaizumi inhales deep. “You wait until I’m better,” he growls.

Oikawa bops him on the nose lightly with a finger. “Empty threats, Iwa-chan. I’m getting pretty good at spotting them,” he says, leaning back and grinning triumphantly.

Iwaizumi tries to bite his fingers again and Oikawa retracts his hand quicker this time, swinging himself off the bed and striding towards the door with a gross pep in his steps. Iwaizumi closes his eyes in frustration, hearing Oikawa call a faint goodbye and the feeling of his body overtop of him reappears once he’s settled alone with his thoughts.

***

Less than an hour passes and Iwaizumi barely registers Kenma walking through his door with Hinata trailing behind him. He blinks and suddenly, the two of them are standing next to his bed.

“How are you feeling Iwaizumi?” Hinata asks chipperly, setting a plate down on his night stand. Kenma takes a seat on the empty chair.

“Sore,” he comments, noticing the patch over the Prince’s left eye. “That’s new,” he says bluntly.

Hinata surprisingly chuckles. “So is that,” he says, pointing to the bandage wrapped around his right leg.

“Got me there.”

“I’d like to see how you’re healing,” Kenma explains, hovering a hand above the bandaged leg. “May I?”

Iwaizumi nods, trying to hold his guard up as best as possible with Kuroo’s words in the back of his mind. It’s challenging since his body feels like he’s floating and his mind holds no room for putting up walls thanks to the poppy tears. He resigns himself to laying his head down on the pillow while Kenma undresses the wound.

Kenma’s hands are light as they work to unravel the bandage wrapped around his thigh. “Have you tried moving at all?” He asks.

“A little. It’s painful,” Iwaizumi answers.

Kenma gives a sound of acknowledgement. “And is your fever, is it getting better?”

“I think so.”

“Good. Your leg is already healing well,” Kenma says. “I expect it to be closed over in a day or two. You should be in fighting shape within a week or two.”

Iwaizumi nods. “Good. Thank you, Kenma,” he says. “I didn’t think I’d been poisoned.”

“Think nothing of it,” Kenma assures uncomfortably. “Oikawa already passed along your thanks.”

Hinata comes around to stand by Kenma’s side, offering the plate in front of Iwaizumi. “Hah! He’s being modest Iwaizumi. It took him all night to get the poison out! Oikawa said it was the most gruesome thing he’d ever seen. He said there was this black stuff _oozing_ -“

“Shouyou please,” Kenma says, voice low and curt.

“Oikawa saw it?” He asks carefully.

“Well, maybe it’s why he wanted to stay by your side to keep watch over you!” Hinata continues. Iwaizumi grabs a slice of dried meat and chews out the tough meat slowly. “It must have spooked him pretty bad. I’ve never seen him so nurturing towards someone before,” Hinata chuckles to himself.

Iwaizumi wants to ask- _why me?_

“Who knows. It was an odd sight to behold,” Kenma echoes, wrapping Iwaizumi’s leg in fresh bandages.

Maybe he asked that aloud.

* * *

Nishinoya sits on the top step of the platform overlooking the front of the small clearing in the forest. He gnaws absentmindedly on a piece of bread and turns behind him at the sound of the door opening. Nishinoya feels a grin coming at the sight of a disheveled Asahi; faint rings around his eyes, loose strands of hair falling from his bun and a yawn on his lips. The knight gives a sleepy smile in return to him, pausing next to Nishinoya. They give quiet greetings to each other, but Asahi gives no indication of sitting down.

“Can we um, go for a walk?” The knight asks. “It’s be nice if we could chat.”

Nishinoya nods, standing and walking down the stairs in silence. "Sure, I wanted to go to the forest's edge anyway. I left a few things back in the wagon."

"The wagon?" Asahi asks.

"It was too wide to fit through the trees, so we detached the horses and the donkey and left it there," he explains.

Setting off into the forest, he can feel the anxiety rolling of Asahi as they trail without a word to each other. It’s difficult to not find it intimidating and Nishinoya is ready to fill the silence with any kind of useless babbling to get the sticky, unsure feeling out of him. He thought getting to see Asahi like this again would’ve made him happy, not nervous.

They’re out of sight of the fort and well into the dense trees. Asahi catches Nishinoya’s arm gently. He turns to face the knight with a question on his lips, but is pulled close to Asahi in warm embrace. Nishinoya blinks, but recovers quick and wraps his arms around his middle in return, pressing his forehead into Asahi’s chest. 

“I’ve been waiting to do this,” Asahi says close to his ear. The sound of his voice, a little breathy but rich, makes Nishinoya’s skin tingle. His hold on the man tightens and the doubt releases from his mind. He had nothing to worry about in the first place, he realizes.

He mutters a response which gets lost in Asahi’s shirt.

“Hm?” The knight sounds, a hand running up his back.

Nishinoya pulls away, enough to meet Asahi’s tender eyes. “And I’ve been waiting to do this,” he mumbles with a flush, grabbing Asahi’s collar and kissing him.

The knight gives a small squeak of surprise and Nishinoya almost laughs. Instead, he loosens his grip and presses his hands to the sides of Asahi’s face gently. They share a few spare kisses and Nishinoya could lick his lips at the sight as he pulls back to stare up at Asahi with low lids. He kisses the knight once more for good measure. Asahi laughs tenderly.

“I’m glad you’re safe,” the knight says with a warm smile.

Nishinoya's face reddens. “Me? You’re the one who’s been on the run,” He points out.

“What about you? I almost had a heart attack when I saw you last night.”

Nishinoya laughs, resuming walking. "We have catching up to do, don’t we?"

"Yes, it's why I wanted to talk," Asahi reminds sheepishly.

Noya raises an eyebrow. "Oh? So you didn't come out here to pin me up against a tree and have your way with me?"

Asahi's lips part. "P-pin you? I never did that!" He cries.

"We've still got time," Nishinoya comments, wearing a sly expression. 

Poor Asahi, he's very red in the face. "Noya..." He gets out warily.

Nishinoya slips his hand around Asahi's. "Call me Yuu."

"Really?"

He laughs. "Yes really. I call you Asahi all the time!" He reminds.

"Okay, Yuu," Asahi says.

Damn, he enjoyed hearing that more than he thought he would. Nishinoya distracts himself with an outburst. "Alright! So here's how it went down on my end. I was finishing up at the shop a couple nights after you left and this guard shows up- the guy was a giant! Seriously Asahi, I had to crane my neck up like this," he gives a visual demonstration. "Just to see him!"

Asahi nods along attentively, listening to Nishinoya recount the events.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With the way things are looking, the story will finish with 18 chapters.
> 
> And we’ll talk about an epilogue a little further down the line 😊


	14. Facades

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one took a little bit longer than i thought it would. as the final chapters progress i'm getting very critical, so apologies for the delay and as always, enjoy my loves! ♡

Kageyama wakes nearly two days after the injury. Opening his eyes, his blinks out the drowsiness and sees Akaashi sitting in a chair next to him, with his head turned down into a book in his lap. Behind him, the bastard who got the slip on him and Kageyama nearly killed in return. His wrists are tied to the headboard of the bed he lies in. They glare at each other until Akaashi notices Kageyama has woken. Wordlessly, Akaashi closes his book and folds his hands on top of it.

“What happened?” Kageyama asks, his voice hoarse.

“I have been wondering the same thing,” Akaashi returns, his face neutral as always.

His words are minced though, Kageyama can tell. He closes his eyes. “I was sure I had him,” he murmurs, pinching his lids tighter. “I didn’t think-“

Akaashi cuts in. “Exactly. You did not think, Kageyama and therein lies the root of the problem,” he criticizes.

Kageyama isn’t expecting the harshness. Or maybe he’s used to only receiving a scolding from Daichi or Sugawara, but definitely not Akaashi. Either way, he’s left without much to say for a beat.

“How many times has Sugawara told you not to act impulsive in situations like this?” The sniper continues. He's not even using formalities on their names, Kageyama realizes with dread. He must be pissed off.

Kageyama isn’t sure if it’s a rhetorical question and frowns. “Many.”

“This leaves me to wonder, do you not respect him enough to heed his words?”

“What? Obviously not,” Kageyama protests. “It’s, it’s-”

“I am not interested in excuses right now,” Akaashi interrupts again, holding up a hand to stop him and Kageyama almost winces. A second time? Kageyama could shiver. Akaashi is never so abrupt and it’s freaking him out. He watches the sniper stand and asks where he’s going. Akaashi doesn’t turn around, opening the door.

"Where are you going?"

“To wake Sugawara. He will want to check on you now that you are awake.”

“You’re in for it,” the fugitive mutters once Akaashi is gone.

“Shut up,” Kageyama bites back. He already knows.

* * *

Daichi sets the cup of tea on the table, in front of Kenma. The quiet man nods a thanks and Daichi offers a small smile, taking the seat across from him.

“Before we talk,” Kenma murmurs, folding his hands into his lap. Daichi waits for him to continue. “Are there any board games here?”

The brigand blinks, realizing it isn’t a joke and smiles sheepishly. “Afraid not.”

Kenma’s shoulders lower. “Oh. Playing cards?”

“Hm, we might actually have those around somewhere,” Daichi answers, eyes drifting to the ceiling in thought. “You want to play something while we talk?”

Kenma stares into his tea, observing the steam rolling out of the cup. “It helps to have something else to concentrate on,” he admits.

Daichi lulls on this and nods. “Okay, give me a few. I’ll find something,” he says.

Walking into his own room, Daichi’s reflects on his conversation with Kuroo not long ago. It was becoming difficult to keep Kuroo’s curiosity (and paranoia) towards Kenma at bay, and Daichi feared leaving the two of them alone to talk might be a risk. Said risk most likely involving Kuroo attacking Kenma if he said the wrong thing. Seeing the way Kuroo has treated their fugitive, Daichi could easily picture it happening.

And so by offering to be the neutral messenger, Daichi allowed himself to be bombarded with instructions and clear questions to ask Kenma as directed by Kuroo. Now as he sifts through the chest in his room and he grabs the deck of playing cards tucked under some other belongings, Daichi reminds himself of them.

Returning to the dining room, Kenma’s eyes zone in on the cards in his hands with interest. “Ever played Hanafuda?” Daichi asks, sitting at the table.

Kenma shakes his head.

“Alright, I’ll give an explanation,” he says, shuffling the cards and dealing them out. He hovers his hand above the grouping of cards as he explains the rules and the point system. Kenma takes the information in without a word, or lifting his eyes off the table. Daichi pauses to ask him if he has any questions and Kenma shakes his head.

“I’ll need a few rounds to understand it fully, but I get the basis,” Kenma says.

In the first few rounds, Daichi remains focused primarily on the game to give Kenma time to warm up to him. True to his word, Kenma picks up on the game in no time. He memorizes the Yaku faster than expected and determines different types of strategies for building points. It comes clear to Daichi that Kenma is sort of a brilliant person, watching him learn the game so fast.

During their sixth round, Kenma speaks up. “I made a mistake.”

Daichi blinks from the cards in his hand to Kenma, trying to decide if he wants to go for the red ribbons or bright cards. “Hm? Did you pair wrong?” He asks absentmindedly.

Kenma shakes his head. “Not like that. In my actions and my letter to Kuroo.”

Well, he certainly wasn’t expecting Kenma to be the first to open up. Daichi figured he would have to tread lightly with his words and ease Kenma into the topic based on his standoff nature. Maybe small talk isn’t his thing, or Kenma was onto something in saying the distraction helps him talk.

Daichi pairs a card, bringing it into his pile and arranging them. There’s caution at the forefront of his mind, and it takes the form of Kuroo’s words and warnings from earlier. At the same time, sitting in front of Kenma and playing cards together with him, Daichi can’t find much to be guarded about. Kenma is very clearly shy, not one to exert any kind of intimidation. It’s obvious in his body language and his discomfort interacting with people. He doesn’t seem like the type to play mind games either.

Daichi keeps his focus on the cards. “He read the letter probably fifty times during the trip.”

Kenma sighs and Daichi can’t help peeking up. “I didn’t think he would react like this. Clearly, I was wrong.”

“Do you know much about the Institute?”

He watches Kenma’s eyes meet his own. “I do,” he admits.

“Well, I don’t know a lot, but the place has haunted Kuroo for a good chunk of his life.”

Kenma pairs a card and adds it to his pile. “Understandably so.”

The comment goes noted in Daichi’s mind. He recognizes the Yaku Kenma has formed with his cards. He can end the round here, or take a risk and go for higher points by continuing. Daichi observes the inquisitive expression on Kenma’s face, unsure which option he will pick.

“Koi koi,” Kenma finally mutters.

Daichi exhales, pairing a card almost right away. “The last line of your letter- Kuroo said it’s an Institute saying.”

“Yes,” Kenma confirms. “A sort of proverb for those who practice the dark arts.”

Checks out with Kuroo's description of it. “And you know this because you’re also a dark mage, right?”

Kenma stares at Daichi in silence for at least a couple of seconds. And briefly, Daichi thinks Kenma might be trying to think of a way to deny the accusation. Until Kenma places his cards face down and raises a hand. He whispers lines of a spell and a small, white, glowing ball appears over his hand.

“I practice light magic,” he explains, closing his fist and dispelling the ball. Kenma places his hand palm-down on the table and whispers other lines in tongue Daichi doesn’t understand. A small zap shocks his forearms on the wooden table, causing him to flinch and nearly knock over his tea. “Also a little lightning,” Kenma says with a slight curl of the side of his mouth.

Daichi nods, thinking he could have done with just the first demonstration. Well, this throws most of Kuroo’s assumptions out of the window, doesn’t it?

Or it should, but Daichi is doubtful for some reason.

“So, what was the point of it?”

“The point?” Kenma repeats. “I wanted him to know I knew who he was,” he answers, shrugging.

Daichi meets his eyes. Caution blossoms further in his chest. “That’s it?”

Kenma nods.

“How _do_ you know him?”

“His escape made him infamous. The Institute tried covering it up as much as possible, but it is well known. Almost like folklore.”

Daichi exhales, shaking his head and thinking he’s getting nowhere. He tries again. “What about the fugitive- did you know he’s a dark mage?”

“I did. I withheld the information from Shouyou and kept it a secret, in case it influenced Kuroo’s decision to comply with the mission.”

Daichi rests his forearms on the table, lying his cards face down. “Okay, I’ll be honest here. I’m not paranoid, but there’s something off about this. You sure do know a lot about dark mages for someone who isn’t one,” he observes.

“I know a lot of things,” Kenma insists quietly.

Daichi suddenly gets it. What Kuroo has been meaning. He can’t place it, but there’s something unnerving about Kenma’s words and the way he speaks them. He answers each one of Daichi’s questions leaving him with five others to follow up with. Nothing is seemingly piecing itself together.

“Tell me this then. What’s the connection between the castle and the Institute?”

“I’m not sure that information is relevant to you.”

Ah, it's somewhat of an answer in itself. “Maybe you’re right, but I need to know my friend isn’t going to be arrested once this mission in complete.”

Kenma takes a few to consider. “If it puts your mind at ease, I am the only one who knows of Kuroo’s true identity and I have no intention of spreading such information,” he offers.

He wants to be assured by hearing the words, but Daichi feels reluctant nodding. He pairs the card Kenma played and rearranges it into his pile. Kenma gives a sound of frustration, realizing the pattern Daichi has created.

“Shiko,” Daichi murmurs to himself, lining the four cards together. “And that’s double points for me this round,” he adds, looking up. Kenma tallies the points reluctantly on a spare parchment.

“Don’t make me regret my decision to trust you, Kenma,” Daichi warns.

Kenma lowers his eyes uncomfortably. “Right.”

* * *

“I must be insane,” Yamaguchi whispers to himself.

He stands in the east halls for the third time. Funny, he’s growing more and more confident returning to this place. The idea of getting caught is much less of a concern than previously, primarily because this time he swiped a guard’s uniform, finding inspiration in Tsukishima’s earlier actions.

Though, he is a little anxious, standing outside of the door on the far end of the hall with the key from the library in his hand and his shoulder plates shifting awkwardly. Did he put this thing on right? Who knows; he’s praying nobody will spot him to question the sloppy appearance anyway.

It’s morning and the sun is in its early stages of rising. Yamaguchi figured if there was a chance the familiar Lord stopped by again, it would be at night like the last time. So, he decided to visit early instead and it seems to have paid off thus far. No encounters and the key in the library was still sitting in the same drawer of the desk on the second floor.

What could be on the other side of this door? Yamaguchi has given it thought for days- anything from a room full of gold to a secret meeting room for higher ups to secretly plot against Prince Hinata. He has no idea, but the build-up of it all is making him antsy.

The key slots into the lock with a click and Yamaguchi opens the door slowly. Stepping inside, he observes a small office. A large, wooden desk sits across from him with a chair pushed in. Two bookcases are pushed to the wall behind it, filled with volumes of different books. A large, brown, ornate rug covers the ground, and a small table with a decanter half-full of wine is against one of the walls. 

What really catches his attention though, is the large painting hanging on the wall behind the table.

“Pretty,” Yamaguchi says to himself, approaching the canvas and staring at the unfamiliar face. She has long, wavy blond hair falling to her waist. Painted in a light blue dress, she sits on a chair with her hands folded in her lap. Her amber eyes are wide and full of life, so realistic Yamaguchi thinks it’s crazy it could be captured with paint like this. Whoever painted her did a lovely job.

Turning around, Yamaguchi’s arm accidentally bumps something. He gasps and watches the decanter he knocked tumbling off of the table. Not having enough time or the reflexes to catch it, Yamaguchi presses his hands to his temples and watches helplessly as the glass shatters on the ground. Yamaguchi nearly keens, dropping to his hands and knees right away to picks at the shards.

“The rug!” The whispers frantically to himself. A large, dark stain blooms on the corner of it. “Oh no, oh no…” He murmurs. Yamaguchi scans the room for anything to clean the stain up with. Of course, after checking the drawers of the desk he finds nothing.

Maybe he can flip the rug over and it will be fine. It’s the best option he can think of in his panicked state and Yamaguchi shoves the desk out of the way so he can roll the rug over. As he uncovers the stone floor underneath, one tile in particular catches his eye.

The tile has a small, square chunk carved into it, maybe an inch or so thick. Yamaguchi pokes a finger at it and unsurprisingly nothing happens. His fingers prod and catch a small lip in the underside of the stone. A small click hits his ears and Yamaguchi lifts the false stone tile from the ground with his lips parted in surprise.

He peers into the small hole. Inside, a black, leather bound book with nothing written atop of it. Yamaguchi grabs it curiously. Some kind of secret book?

Tucking it under his arm, he slides the tile into place and finishes turning the rug over. He flips it so the stained side is underneath the desk when it’s returned to how it was. Good as it can be. Now, he should really get out of here. It feels like his luck is losing steam after that stunt.

Yamaguchi slips into the east halls and checks for anyone present. Quiet as ever, he drops off the key and out of instinct, Yamaguchi heads to the stables to be by himself. It feels like the safest place he could be right now. Once the large, creaking doors close behind him and the scent of hay hits his nose; Yamaguchi exhales tension out of his shoulders. Home free. Sort of.

Morning sun filters through the barn windows and Yamaguchi walks over to a spot on the ground where it shines brightest. He sits down cross legged, opening the first page of the book. There’s a single line written on the first page. Following it, the remaining pages are filled with lines of black ink, written in cursive Yamaguchi processes as gibberish. He squints, recognizing some pages have numbers scrawled on the top left.

“Dates?” He asks himself. “Maybe this is a journal?”

A meow next to him makes Yamaguchi flinch so hard he drops the book.

“Oh!” Yamaguchi breathes nervously, placing a hand on his chest and staring at a barn cat sitting about ten feet away and staring at him. “I don’t know how much more my heart can take.”

The cat approaches him, brushes against his legs and purrs loudly.

“You scared me near to death!” Yamaguchi exclaims, scratching behind its neck. The cat’s eyes close in pleasure and it pauses in the patch of sunlight on the ground, then drops on its back. The feline rolls around while Yamaguchi giggles and pats it.

He pulls his hand away and the cat remains stretched out in the sun. Realizing no further pets are coming, the cat raises its head to stare at Yamaguchi. Its iris’ have shrunk down to slits in the sunshine and its tail is twitching in agitation every couple seconds. There’s something accusatory in its eyes.

Yamaguchi frowns.

* * *

Iwaizumi wakes to the sound of his door opening. He mumbles out an incoherent grumble in response to Oikawa’s cheery and unnecessarily loud greeting. Iwaizumi turns his head into his pillow, closing his eyes and ignoring the approaching footsteps to his bed. He tries to not appear tense as they stop.

“You look better today,” he hears Oikawa say.

“How would you know?” Iwaizumi muffles into the pillow.

“The cute vein in your neck isn’t popping like when you’re mad or in pain,” Oikawa answers easy.

Iwaizumi shouldn't be flustered at a minor observation like that, but he remains silent with his head in the pillow.

Oikawa’s voice comes gentler. “Sit up,” he orders.

“Why should I?” Iwaizumi bites, more as a way of buying a couple extra seconds to collect himself.

“Kenma says you have to start moving if you want the leg to get better,” Oikawa explains. “Does it hurt?”

“Yea, but I’ll try walking,” Iwaizumi decides, moving to sit up with a wince. In addition to his injured leg, his other one is stiff from being motionless in a bed so long. Iwaizumi lets out a tight-lipped hiss, sucking air through his teeth at the flutter of prickling in his limbs. He can understand why it’s important for him to get on his feet again. It’s too easy for his body to grow weak from being stationary.

In his peripheral, Oikawa puts his hands on his hips. “You don’t have to jump right into it. Give yourself time to adjust to movement,” he suggests.

Iwaizumi sighs, pressing the heels of his hands into the mattress as he eases his legs over the edge of the bed. His feet touch the cold, stone floor and the dull pain in his thigh flares. He closes his eyes, takes a breath and waits. Oikawa says nothing, but Iwaizumi gets a feeling he’s watching. He can’t explain why.

“Try stretching your legs out in front of you. Nice and slow,” Oikawa says. His voice is careful.

The aching muscles tighten in protest at the movement and Iwaizumi releases a small groan.

“When you’re ready, rise onto your left leg. Don’t put a lot of weight on your injury and go _slow_ ,” Oikawa emphasizes.

Iwaizumi draws his legs inward, planting his soles on the ground. “How do you know all this anyway?” He asks, curling his fingers around the edge of his mattress and mentally counting down.

“I know, beauty _and_ brains. I’ve been blessed,” Oikawa sighs with a shrug. “It’s almost unfair.”

“You’re a shit,” Iwaizumi comments. He doesn’t get a response and decides to keep his eyes on the ground at his feet. Okay, stand up with most of his weight on his left foot…

His thigh isn’t as bad as he rises, but the tight knots in his calves are not to be ignored. Iwaizumi’s vision blurs as he stands and he accidentally plants his right foot down hard in an attempt to balance himself. He lets out a louder sound of grievance and feels hands curling around his forearms.

“Take a couple breaths,” Oikawa says, his gloating tone long gone to be replaced with mild concern.

Iwaizumi is off-put by it and he can’t reason it out. Blinking his vision into focus, he tells Oikawa to let go of him. Surprisingly, the man listens without protest and drops his hands to his sides, backing up to give Iwaizumi space. Iwaizumi takes in short inhales and releases long exhales, trying to work past the hot pain in his thigh, still lingering after stepping down.

He attempts a step forward, slowly easing a little weight on his right leg. His left foot shuffles forward enough to be considered a step. Maybe half of one at best. A little more daring, Iwaizumi takes another bigger step forward. Too ambitious for what his body can handle though, as his knees immediately buckle from the striking pain blowing through his thigh. Iwaizumi lands partially on his knee and is somewhat cushioned by Oikawa’s arms reaching for him to ease the fall.

“Oh Iwa-chan, you don’t have to strain yourself to impress me you know-“

“Would you cut that shit out!?” Iwaizumi barks, the lid of his temper blown off. “That-that stupid fake voice _pisses_ me off!”

It seems to work, Oikawa’s eyes losing their tease and his voice coming low and serious. “Come on, let me help you.”

“What’s the point of all this anyway!?” Iwaizumi argues, resisting. “You’ve made it clear you don’t like me. So why’re you watching over and tending to me like you give a shit!?”

Oikawa breaks eye contact, raising his chin. “If a Lord offers you something, it’s rude to turn him down,” he huffs outs.

Iwaizumi’s eyes narrow. He leans forward towards Oikawa and grasps his nose between his fingers in a tight pinch. “You’re in my home. In my room, wearing my clothes. None of that noble-status bullshit applies here,” he declares, slow and assertive.

A challenging spark is in Oikawa’s gaze as he pulls himself free of Iwaizumi’s grasp. His nose is tinged red from the pinch. Iwaizumi thinks he might have tested his luck a bit too far this time and counts the seconds until he’s pinned down and drugged into a coma again, but instead Oikawa pouts and his eyes soften.

“Iwa-chan, you have a really bland wardrobe you know. I’ve been wearing multiple shades of brown for days,” he says, gesturing to the shirt hanging loose enough to expose part of his collar bone. “It’s unbecoming.”

Iwaizumi blinks. “Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?” He asks.

“You could at least pretend!”

“I’m not good at lying.”

“Bleh, how boring.”

“You’re a real shit, you know?”

“You already said that. Get a little more creative with your insults, Iwa-chan.”

He jaw tenses, yet he accepts Oikawa’s persisting hands, easing Iwaizumi on his feet. One remains on his back, gentle and ready to catch him if he stumbles. Oikawa tells Iwaizumi to wrap an arm around his shoulders and with the relief off of his leg, the two start to walk around the small room in slow steps. It’s painful, but Iwaizumi does it relatively easily.

Next, Oikawa leans him against the wall and backs away. “Try walking a couple steps on your own. Use the wall for balance.”

He does it with success. Iwaizumi notices a genuine smile on Oikawa’s face as he glances over. Only for a second, before Oikawa crosses his arms over his chest. “Wanna try something difficult?”

Iwaizumi nods. Oikawa moves across from Iwaizumi on the opposite side of the room. He holds his arms out in front of him, grinning brightly. “Okay, walk to me.”

“No,” Iwaizumi counters.

“What, don’t think you can do it?” Oikawa asks with a raised eyebrow.

“No, I don’t want to walk to you,” Iwaizumi counters.

“You can say you’ve had enough if you’re too tired.”

Dammit, he knows he’s being lured and yet, he eases himself from the wall in slow steps to prove him wrong. Halfway across the room, his thigh really starts hurting and he thinks his face tells all because Oikawa encourages him.

“Remember to breathe, Iwa-chan!”

And he releases a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Fuck, struggling to walk is seriously driving a crack into his ego right now. Uselessness is something Iwaizumi is not accustom to, shuffling into the last third of space between himself and Oikawa with trouble.

He’s panting like he’s sprinted through fields without rest. Starting to sweat too, unfortunately. How pathetic.

The self-doubt amplifies with the pain in his leg. “I don’t think I can-“

“Take a moment to rest, then try again,” Oikawa interrupts. “I’m here if you fall.”

His words are genuine. Iwaizumi pauses. And takes a couple breaths, keeping his weight on his left leg. Iwaizumi looks up at Oikawa and inhales through his nose.

Oikawa nods, another encouragement.

Iwaizumi exhales and pushes forward, taking a big step and wincing. He limps onto his right foot and goes for the last step right away, already holding his hands forward to grab onto Oikawa’s outstretched forearms. Oikawa supports his abrupt weight easily, holding him tight as Iwaizumi lowers his head to pant.

“You did really well,” Oikawa hums.

And it’s strange.

Because it feels like a real compliment. No snarky undertones or hidden implications in his words.

Iwaizumi swallows and keeps his head down at their feet. “Thanks,” he murmurs.

“Do you want to take a break?”

He nods. “Yea.”

Iwaizumi is still panting when Oikawa eases him to his bed. It’s embarrassing but Oikawa doesn’t taunt, and strangely enough Iwaizumi wishes he would so it could help dispel the doubts he’s having about him. Oikawa gives him medicine and goes to get him some food while it kicks in.

As soon as Oikawa starts feeding him, Iwaizumi’s loose thoughts start forming on his lips. “I don’t get you,” he mutters, narrowing his eyes at the hazy ceiling.

“I’m a complicated man, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi turns his head to glare lightly. “Don’t give yourself so much credit.”

Oikawa pouts. “So rude!”

Iwaizumi swallows down his mouthful of bread. “I thought you didn’t like me, so why all the help?” He asks again, intent on getting a straight answer.

“Why?” Oikawa repeats, tilting his chin up while thinking. “Hm. I guess I somehow got invested in this.”

“I don’t want your help if it’s out of pity.”

“Believe me Iwa-chan, far from it,” Oikawa says, pulling his hand back to take the last bite and swallowing it. “I know how belittling pity is.”

Iwaizumi frowns, but it drops as Oikawa grabs another slice of bread on the plate. For a moment, he forgot there was still food left and it reiterates his dislike for the poppy tears.

“Sounds like you speak from experience,” Iwaizumi says.

Oikawa smiles and it doesn’t reach his eyes, holding the bread to his lips. He’s long given up trying to convince Oikawa he can eat his own damn food. It’s just easier this way. “You could say that.”

“You’re not going to tell me?” Iwaizumi persists, biting. He’s curious and fogged out. The barrier between thoughts and words is disappearing quick.

“Answer me this and I might, Iwa-chan. What would you have done if Kenma amputated your leg?”

Iwaizumi pauses chewing, blinking at him. He opens his mouth to speak and Oikawa gives him a look so he swallows the food down first. “Why should I spare time on those thoughts?”

“Entertain it,” Oikawa insists.

Iwaizumi releases a breath through his nose. He squints at the wall and considers. “I’d have considered myself lucky to live,” he says finally.

Oikawa’s jaw tenses. “How optimistic of you,” he remarks, his voice dripping in sarcasm.

Iwaizumi glares. Or tries to, but he probably isn’t very convincing. “What’s your problem? You mad I’m not taking this seriously enough?”

Oikawa remains silent. So, Iwaizumi’s inebriated mind fills it.

“I wouldn’t expect someone like you to get it, but I’ve dealt with this kind of shit all my life. Injuries come with the job and I learned to accept the risk. Dwelling on the unknown does nothing good.”

A harsh laugh escapes Oikawa. “Pot, meet kettle! Am I right, Iwa-chan?”

“What are you talking about?”

“’Someone like me’,” he repeats in a sarcastic tone. “Weren’t you giving me shit for talking to you like in such a way? I guess you’re not the epitome of acceptance either.”

Iwaizumi wants to get mad. To throw Oikawa’s anger back in his face. Why give into the spite? Instead he sighs and closes his eyes.

“Up until now, you were just a pompous, spoiled brat like the rest of the nobles I’ve met. Someone who only cared for their own interests and lived in an ivory tower, casting judgement upon those not at your level. Even your smug face bugged me,” Iwaizumi says. Glancing at Oikawa, he acknowledges the glare directed his way so he continues. “Now I’m unsure. I look at you and see someone who hides behind layers of false security. I don’t know what’s behind, but I have a feeling you intentionally keep it that way.”

“You really don’t mince your words, huh Iwa-chan?”

“Never been one to sugar coat.”

Oikawa exhales, placing the half-eaten slice of bread on the plate and staring at nothing in particular. Iwaizumi keeps his patience, thinking he's working through a way to say what we wants.

“I used to be a member of the Royal Guard, if you’d believe it,” Oikawa reveals.

Iwaizumi furrows his eyebrows. “You know how to fight?”

Oikawa nods. “Been training with a sword since I was a kid. I always preferred lances though,” he recalls.

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. “They’re only better if you’re on a horse.”

“We’ll return to that grossly incorrect comment some other time,” Oikawa says, maybe as a weak attempt to lighten the mood. “I was sixteen when I was appointed. The youngest member to ever have joined.”

“So you’re good,” Iwaizumi says. A statement, not a question.

Oikawa pauses. “I was.”

Past tense, Iwaizumi notes.

“People thought I was going to be the youngest knight to make Captain, too,” he adds.

“Did you think so?”

Oikawa smiles. Again, a curl of his lips but no happiness in his eyes. “I used to.”

“What changed?”

“I got injured and couldn’t fight the same. My father sought to making sure I could use my talents elsewhere, leading to my appointing as Hinata’s advisor.”

“What kind of injury?” Is what his mind parses through among the information and decides to pursue.

Oikawa pats his right leg, on the knee. “I was sent with a group of men to investigate a Lord suspected of robbing the gold stores. It was my first time leading a platoon,” he recalls. Iwaizumi can tell he’s reliving memories in his head by his dwelling tone.

“What we didn’t know, is the Lord hired a Mercenary group to ambush us. They caught us off guard. Shattered my knee. Killed most of the soldiers including two of my best men,” Oikawa explains.

Iwaizumi is silent a moment. “I’m sorry. What were their names?” He asks.

“Makki and Masstun.”

 _Friends give each other endearing names,_ Oikawa’s voice reminds him somewhere in the reserves of his mind.

“I get it now,” Iwaizumi murmurs. He meets Oikawa’s confused expression. “Why you hate mercenaries. I get it now. I’d probably hate them all myself if I was you,” he admits.

Something wavers. Oikawa exhales and it's as if exhaustion suddenly slapped him across the face. “Tell me: What led you to mercenary work?”

Iwaizumi shrugs. “It’s all I’ve known. Parents died when I was young, so my brother raised me. Fighting made him good money and he was strong. The group he worked for agreed to let me tag along too as long as I took care of chores. They taught me how to fight in downtime and eventually I was allowed to join in on missions. Got a pretty shit cut compared to everyone else though.”

“How old were you when you first started?”

“Twelve, maybe thirteen.”

Oikawa hums. “And you decided to ditch the group and start your own in the middle of a huge forest?”

“To simplify it, sure. Lotta the guys in my first group were distrustful and stupid. I only worked for them because of my brother and after he died, I left for something different in the south. Groups there weren’t much better, but it’s where I met Kuroo and eventually Sugawara.”

“Huh. What about the others?”

“I met Kageyama when he was young, maybe eleven or twelve. Sugawara found him unconscious behind a house passing by a village. He was a starving kid jumping between towns and on death’s door. Sugawara nursed him to health and they both ended up getting attached to each other. We met Daichi a few years later on the east coast during an attack on his village. At this point, we were travelling independently and working small missions. We helped take care of the pirates and Daichi decided to join us after the fight."

"And the mysterious northern Lord’s second son?" Oikawa asks, sounding completely absorbed by his explanations.

"Hm, he was interesting. Akaashi had been travelling all over the map for years. One day, he was ambushed by a group of bandits on the road and sought safety in a forest, which turned out to be this one. The men pursued him, but he had already retreated into the tree tops and took them all out one by one. He wasn’t too badly wounded, but had a nasty cut on his arm. Hours later, Sugawara came by to gather wild herbs and had a near fit at the scene. He brought Akaashi to the fort and treated him."

"And let me guess? He was also charmed and decided to stick by you?"

Iwaizumi raises an eyebrow. "He left a few days after he was healed, but returned a couple months later. Said he wanted a place to settle down and live quietly and the fort was the first place he'd felt safe. I understood the sentiment and agreed to let him stay."

Oikawa remains quiet for sometime. 

“You’re a bit of an anomaly, Iwa-chan. Every time I think I have you figured out, you go and throw me off.”

“A what?”

“An anomaly. You know, the odd one out of the bunch.”

“I can’t tell if it’s good or not.”

Oikawa smiles, patting his cheek lightly as he stands up. “In this case, it’s a good thing. Get some rest. We’ll practice walking again in a bit.”

* * *

Two days have passed since Kageyama woke.

Their horse’s hooves click against the stone path. A tenseness has set itself in the air all around them, understandably so. Akaashi cannot deny the trip back down the mountains is an unnerving one. The path feels narrower than it did on the way up and the steep cliffsides running next to them are far too large to ignore coming the opposite way. Akaashi knows it is impossible, but it sure does keep him guarded and eager to stay as far away from the edge as he can.

The return to the Kingdom started earlier in the day. On bedrest for days and healing steadily, Kageyama has been persistent about completing the mission. There has been a lot of arguing between him and Sugawara, who is still furious at Kageyama’s lack of concern towards his reckless behaviour. Bokuto and himself have chosen to remain as removed from the arguments as they can, but Akaashi has made it fairly clear he sides with Sugawara.

Since the trek down the mountains started though, Sugawara and Kageyama have not spoken a word to each other. They have also chosen to stay as distanced as possible in their line on the path, with Kageyama riding in front and Sugawara at the back. The two fugitives ride behind Kageyama, both of their hands bound atop their horses and connected to a rope Bokuto holds. Akaashi rides next to the knight, in front of Sugawara.

“Bokuto-san, you have to stop looking over the edge. You are scaring yourself again,” Akaashi comments, noticing the knight’s hands gripping the rope tight enough to tremble

“Ah, I can’t help, it’s right there!” Bokuto complains. “And such a high drop, oh man my stomach is turning.”

Akaashi sighs, then motions for Bokuto to ride closer to him. “We are halfway down already, plus going downhill is quicker. We will be on ground level before sundown,” he assures.

Bokuto nods to himself. “Okay,” he breathes. “Sure, when you put it like-“

Akaashi’s head snaps to his right, up at the sight of a wolf perched high on the steep cliff top. It is howling, a long, drawn out coo abruptly cutting Bokuto off.

“Huh, what’s it doing?” Bokuto asks, cocking his head in confusion.

“Alerting the pack,” Akaashi answers with dawning horror, gripping his reins tight. “We need to get out of here!” He calls to Kageyama.

Not needing to be told twice, Kageyama cracks into a gallop and the others follow. The sudden increase in speed is tough to adjust with the downhill terrain. Akaashi slings his bow over his arm and scans over his shoulder. The wolf has stopped howling and is running along the small rocks jutting out of the cliff’s side to catch up to them. It would be impressive if the animal was not getting ready to hunt them.

“Where’d those guys come from!?” Bokuto’s voice alerts him.

Akaashi’s gaze returns ahead and spots three wolves, also running along the cliff side parallel to them. One of them is beginning to jump onto lower rocks as it runs with incredible agility. Akaashi draws an arrow from the quiver on his back and lines it up to his bow. Taking steady aim atop of a galloping horse never proves to be an easy feat, but Akaashi releases the arrow and watches it sink into the leg of the wolf descending. It releases a whine of pain, losing its momentum and tumbling down onto the path then rolling off the cliff. The other wolves in the pack do not appear to be deterred, still pursuing.

Akaashi hears a growl behind and turns to check over his shoulder again. The lone wolf behind them has made it down to the path, chasing directly behind Sugawara. Akaashi takes aim, but the angle is challenging and the arrow misses once shot. He whispers a curse to himself.

Drawing another arrow, Akaashi orders Sugawara to ride ahead of him. He pulls the string taut with the shot clear, ready to release. In a sudden leap forward with its mouth unhinged, the wolf catches one of his horse’s legs between its jaws. The horse releases a cry and the next thing Akaashi knows, he slams into the stone path in a forceful impact. He is sure he knocked his head a fair amount, considering the sudden loss of vision and impaired hearing.

The next few moments leaves him flickering with consciousness.

* * *

Bokuto halts his horse so abruptly he topples off of her. She cries in protest and continues down the path out of fear. Bokuto pays her no mind, already running towards Akaashi and the fallen horse up the path. The yelling behind him is no more than a distraction he ignores, too panicked by the wolf in front of Akaashi, growling as the sniper stirs groggily. Bokuto’s grip on his lance grows, reflexes ready to hurl it, but he knows he's too far to stand a chance getting the wolf from this distance. He pulls his arm back anyway, because let Bokuto be damned if he does nothing to try and stop this.

"Out of the way!" A voice commands. Bokuto turns his attention over his shoulder at the sound of barrelling hooves.

He has to leap out of the way to avoid the biggest horse he's ever seen in his life, charging past him at incredible speed. An unfamiliar man is atop, and Bokuto watches with awe as he launches a knife into the wolf's head in the matter of seconds. Bokuto scrambles to his feet and rushes to meetup with them. The other wolves seem to have finally scattered. Further down the path, Sugawara and Kageyama catch Bokuto's horse and calm her down.

The man is still on the horse as Bokuto reaches Akaashi, dropping to his knees and calling his name quietly. Akaashi babbles something nonsensical and Bokuto slips his arms under him carefully. Standing up, Bokuto finally observes at the man atop of the giant horse. He looks tall, with short blond hair and cool, umber eyes.

“Thank you-“ he starts.

“Save it for later. Put him on here and get your horse back,” the man orders with calm authority. Bokuto nods and Akaashi stirs when Bokuto settles him behind the blond man.

Concern is in Bokuto’s voice. “Akaashi?” He asks, voice soft. “Hold on tight, okay? We getting you somewhere safe.”

He gets the barest of a nod and the horse rides forward. Bokuto grabs his own from Sugawara with a thanks and jumps on. He gallops behind them and spares a glance over his shoulder to see the remaining wolves returned around the wounded horse and starting to feast, their muzzles stained red. Bokuto grimaces and looks forward.


	15. Severed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I was planning this chapter it was going to be the shortest. Turns out it’s the longest to date! Enjoy!!

Bokuto rests his chin on his knees, settled in front of a small stream. His arms are folded around his legs, keeping him seated in a tight ball-like position. He’s long lost track of the amount of time spent sitting here transfixed by the running waters, but the sun still isn’t up and if his numb feet are anything to go by, it’s been awhile. The sounds of water trailing along has lulled most of his thoughts to background noise. Bokuto thinks it’s going to be the best he can get given the current circumstances.

Now, by no means does Bokuto consider himself a tactical genius. He leaves the brains and the schemes of battles to one’s who know their craft, just as they leave him as the one to execute said plans on the battlefield. The post-battle always gets dealt with by the nobles, the one’s wearing their fancy robes and sour expressions. Fighting has always made the most sense to Bokuto compared to the tactics and the politics. It's why he chose to become a knight in the first place.

But damn, between everything Tsukishima has recounted in their journey to the Kingdom and the other terrorized villages they have passed in recent days, it’s hard not to believe some grand plan is unfolding right before them. Except there are pieces missing, so you have to try and figure out a way to fill the gaps. An assassination attempt on the Prince? So close to the King's death too, there’s no way it isn’t connected. And while he’s pleased to hear the Prince survived and has gone into hiding, it’s hard to find any silver linings about the situation.

Bokuto exhales and a small sound of frustration leaves him. He doesn’t want to think about this right now. He should get back to camp with the others for some rest. His shift of watching the fugitive has passed and he knows it will be a long day of travel from sunup to fall. Yet, Bokuto isn’t sure he’d be able to get much sleep in the little time left of night anyway. The river is a nice distraction at least.

“Bokuto-san?” He hears softly from behind.

He can’t help a tiny smile, only a slight curl of his mouth. “Old habits die hard,” he whispers.

He tilts his head backwards to try and maintain the knotted tangle of limbs while looking at Akaashi. Unfortunately, Bokuto loses his balance and ends up dropping onto his back in a sprawl. “How’d you find me?” He asks, and Akaashi’s outline appears in his overhead vision seconds later. His arms are folded behind him.

“Sugawara-san informed me you went to the stream. Would you like some company?” Akaashi asks.

Bokuto nods and it takes him a couple seconds to remember Akaashi probably can’t see him well, so he gives a hum of acknowledgement. Akaashi sits down next to him, knees tucked up in similar fashion to how Bokuto was sitting, with his forearms under his thighs. 

"How's your head?" Bokuto asks.

Akaashi’s head is turned towards him. It’s dark, but as dawn approaches the skies are shifting from black to navy and tinges of cerulean, his adjusted eyes perceive the details of Akaashi’s face. “You have asked six times. I am okay, I assure you."

Bokuto hums in response.

"Are you thinking about what Tsukishima-san told us?” Akaashi asks.

Bokuto nods again, attention drawn to the sky briefly. Each time he checks, it grows lighter. “I don’t usually get scared ‘bout much. When I was a kid, I was never scared of the dark or spiders. One time, I stood up to a group of guys picking on a girl even though I got a nasty beating in return. They broke one of my ribs and split my lip, but I wasn’t scared at all. It hurt, sure, but that kind of stuff heals.”

He’s quiet a beat or two. Akaashi doesn’t say anything either.

“But it’s like- I’ve been nothin’ but scared,” Bokuto says, pressing a hand to his chest, like he’s expecting the thing to explode like a flare of fire magic. “I thought this mission was going to be cool and heroic, you know? Getting to travel across the lands to track down dangerous guys who would be put to justice. It was supposed to be cool, but it’s been pretty terrible. First the village, then Kageyama and you getting hurt, and now I learn someone’s trying to assassinate the Prince? I mean, _what is going on!?_ ”

The last sentence, he shouts up at the sky in frustration. Bokuto hears Akaashi shuffling and catches him laying on his side, facing the knight. Akaashi’s hand pats on his arm gently until he grasps Bokuto’s wrist, tugging his hand upwards. He pauses with Bokuto’s hand at his mouth and presses light kisses to the knight's knuckles. Bokuto watches in awe as Akaashi brings Bokuto’s hand to his chest, curling his own around it protectively.

“I am sorry. I do not have the answers,” Akaashi murmurs. His thumb strokes over Bokuto’s knuckles. The knight decides he could fall asleep like this and find himself in absolute bliss. “Missions can be very tolling physical and mentally. Know I will do anything I can to help you and the Prince, and I am certain the others feel the same way.”

“I'm changing what I said. The mission hasn’t been terrible,” Bokuto decides.

Akaashi blinks at him in curiosity. Bokuto continues. “Having you by my side makes it better,” he clarifies.

His hand is tugged up to Akaashi’s mouth. “Is that so, Koutarou?” He asks coyly, but Bokuto hears the subtle knowing in his voice and- holy crap is Akaashi teasing him right now? Akaashi places another kiss on his hand, this time in the space between Bokuto’s thumb and forefinger.

It’s like a latch being pulled, sending Bokuto flipped on top his head abruptly. Oh, he’s happy he got to hear his name even if it was done so to purposefully fluster him. Bokuto isn’t too bothered really, shifting closer to Akaashi and reaching his free hand out to slide his fingers in the nape of his neck, passed his hairline. He runs his fingernails along the roots of Akaashi’s hair and toys with the soft curls. Briefly, Bokuto wonders how Akaashi manages to look so put together though they’ve been travelling for days now without an indoor rest stop.

But it’s a question that doesn’t really need an answer and neither is the one Akaashi asked. Especially right now. He could explain it much better without words anyway. Bokuto leans close, pressing a gentle kiss to Akaashi’s lips. The hand around his tightens and Akaashi's fingers thread with his own while he reciprocates. Bokuto has all but convinced himself he could spend hours kissing Akaashi and not grow tired of it.

Bokuto slides his fingers up the back of Akaashi’s head, sifting through the soft locks and pulling away a couple inches. The makings of sunlight are spreading across the land. Bokuto gives himself a moment to take all of Akaashi in. “Y’know something?”

Akaashi smiles, patient. “Tell me.”

Bokuto kisses him. “I feel safe with you. It’s like…there’s this invisible layer of protection with you by my side,” he answers.

Akaashi stares blankly, the way some do after Bokuto has unknowingly said something dumb. Akaashi drops his hand and swings himself overtop of Bokuto, legs on either side of him and hands pressed to his chest. Bokuto is only allowed a second or two of stunned silence before Akaashi is leaning down to kiss him. It’s the definitive point in which Bokuto returns to reality, accepting that _yes_ Akaashi has just thrown himself into his lap. And _yes_ he just made a cute sound as Bokuto’s hands settle on his waist and press their bodies together.

Bokuto would come to remember the next moments for a long time. The sounds of morning doves beginning to call in the distance with their awakening, the occasional cricket chirping here and there. The smell of morning dew on the grass around them, definitely getting both of their clothes wet from lying in it but neither caring in the slightest. The light touch of Akaashi’s fingertips trailing up Bokuto’s neck, leaving tingling traces in their wake until he grasps Bokuto’s jaw to deepen their kisses. The glow of Akaashi’s flushing skin, illuminated by the morning sun is a sight Bokuto takes in. He’s never been so enthralled by someone’s beauty.

And of course, tells Akaashi this between the progressively intensifying kisses. The man reddens more than he already is and Bokuto kisses the skin below his eyes softly, insisting it as truth. Akaashi simply shakes his head and starts dusting his lips over Bokuto’s jaw and neck.

He’d remember vividly how his grip grew and Akaashi released a small sound of encouragement. How Bokuto’s hands slid from his waist to his hips, pressing his thumbs into the dip and pulling Akaashi so they met chest to chest. They kissed again, so many times Bokuto couldn’t count if he tried. Somewhere along the way their hands wandered across each other’s bodies and Bokuto committed the soft touch of Akaashi’s skin to memory. He indulged himself in the sounds Akaashi made, the way he cried Bokuto’s name like a mantra when he was consumed in the fires of his own pleasure.

Most of all, Bokuto would remember the sound of their hearts beating so loud- his and Akaashi’s, drumming along in sync and creating their own kind of cosmic love song as they come undone with each other.

* * *

“So,” Hinata pauses, taking a breath. He gauges everyone’s reaction now that he’s explained the plan. “Questions? Thoughts?”

“Me,” Kuroo jumps in. “Can’t help but notice you’re only using the disposables to carry this plan out. Can he fight?” He asks, pointing a thumb at Tanaka.

Across the room, Hinata catches Tanaka pushing up his sleeve and Nishinoya grinning way too wickedly to try and put a stop to it, so Asahi pats Tanaka on the shoulder maybe a tad harder than necessary to bring him down to earth. He resigns himself the glaring not subtly in Kuroo’s direction.

“Disposables?” Hinata repeats, confused by Kuroo’s choice of words.

“I believe Kuroo is implying we are sending the ones in the group who are not of nobility to return to the city,” Kenma clarifies. His gaze locks onto Kuroo. “However, I can assure you it is not the lack of social titles which has caused you to be the choice. Prince Hinata cannot return to the city until we have taken care of the threat. Azumane and Oikawa are too recognizable.”

“And what about you?” Kuroo raises an eyebrow.

“I would prefer to have no further confrontations with the guards,” Kenma murmurs. Hinata notes the barest hints of hesitance in his friend’s voice.

He can tell Kuroo is waiting for Kenma to continue, but the brunet remains wordless. “We had a…hindrance during our escape,” Hinata tries to fill in so they can move past it.

“If you’re going to tell them, say it as it is Shouyou. I killed a guard,” Kenma bites out. “And I’m not capable of repeating it. So, please help us.”

Hinata knows Kenma rarely loses his cool and it never fails to take him by surprise. This time is no different and it seems to have had similar impacts on the others in the room, who are stuck between uncomfortable and surprised.

Hinata addresses Kuroo. “You’re not disposable. None of you are. I need you alive and well to be able to do this successfully. Are you in?”

Kuroo's glower wavers and he shifts between Iwaizumi and Daichi. Daichi nods and Iwaizumi crosses his arms. “Your call,” he says.

The man mulls it over, settling on Hinata with a frown.

“It’s gonna cost you extra.”

“Done,” Hinata agrees without hesitation.

* * *

Oikawa awakens the next morning to something striking hard against his side. He sits up wearily from the pile of Iwaizumi’s shirts he’s been using as a pillow and hears an aggravated sound, blearily watching Iwaizumi stumble to regain his balance. He glares at Oikawa, then loses some of the heat as he recognizes he’s awake.

“Hey, what was that for?” He mumbles, rubbing at his eyes.

“You’re in my way,” Iwaizumi replies, clearly having just woken up as well by the sound of his voice. Low and laced with something husky, Oikawa is unbothered by the words though they’re impolite.

He stretches his arms over his head with a yawn. “Have a little sympathy, would you? I’m not exactly sleeping in the guest bed.”

“What are you doing on the ground anyway?”

“All the other rooms and couches were taken,” Oikawa answers.

Iwaizumi hums. “I figured someone high-born like you would fight tooth and nail to sleep on the floor.”

“Someone high-born like me,” Oikawa repeats distastefully. “Wow, Iwa-chan, how shallow of you to see me in such a way.”

Iwaizumi’s lips press together, clearly unimpressed. Oikawa can’t help laughing, unable to try and feign the charade further. He stands up, sucking in a breath at the tightness in his legs. “I’ll have you know, I had to sleep on a disgusting, dusty old couch in the _worst_ house in the city. Comparatively, the floor is a treat.”

“You’re basically a martyr,” Iwaizumi comments dryly, tugging his boots on and starting towards the doorway. He’s not limping at all today.

Oikawa flashes him a bright smile from behind, following. “I’ll say. You’re feeling good this morning,” he comments.

Iwaizumi nods, not turning to address him as he walks down the hallway. “Yea, I’m going to get in some training before we leave in a few days.”

Oikawa cocks his head to the side. “Training?”

They pass along the front room and Oikawa nods a greeting passing by Asahi, who is on shift watching the fugitive. The knight gives him a wave.

“Yea, sword practice,” Iwaizumi confirms.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea?” The implication of his injury is easily noticeable. The stab wound itself is completely healed, but Iwaizumi still limps at times.

“Kenma says I have to keep moving.” Iwaizumi says, unlatching the front door and stepping outside. “Plus, I can’t sit around all day. I get restless.”

Oikawa hums, crossing outside and shutting the door behind them. “If restlessness is the issue, I’m sure I could help you out. I know a thing or two about unwinding,” he offers coyly.

Iwaizumi stops at the top of the steps, turning with a serious expression and Oikawa winks in return. Iwaizumi remains unphased; Aw, seriously? Oikawa was hoping for something better than that, like the last time he blushed all sweet when he was overtop Iwaizumi’s body, calling him by name. Witnessing Iwaizumi in such a state because of him left Oikawa yearning to experience it again. Maybe multiple times.

Simultaneously, Oikawa harbours a slight unease in the way the man continues to stare with no reaction.

Something sparks in Iwaizumi’s expression. “You’re right. I do want your help,” he states.

Oikawa blinks. Iwaizumi turns around and descends the stairs without another word. Oikawa blinks a second time, wondering if he’s being tricked here.

He doesn’t react until Iwaizumi disappears around the side of the building and it sets Oikawa off, scuttling to the side of the platform and peering over the stone railing where Iwaizumi walked towards.

“Iwa-chan! Iwa-chan, where are you going?” He asks.

The man returns not seconds later, holding two worn-out wooden training swords. He looks up at Oikawa.

“You’re going train with me,” Iwaizumi declares as he rounds to the front of the fort.

Oikawa scoffs. “This isn’t the kind of help I meant,” he denies.

“I know, you lewd pervert.”

“If you think that was lewd,” Oikawa shakes his head. “My, the things I could say right now-”

“You really think I’d accept any creepy offering from you?” Iwaizumi interrupts, holding a sword out to him at the bottom of the stairs.

Oikawa lifts an eyebrow, pretending his ego didn't receive a blow and walks to the top step. He crosses his arms over his chest, stopping in place. “I’m not much of a worthy opponent, you would be better without me,” he dismisses.

Iwaizumi doesn’t waver. “I’m not at my best right now either. We’ll take breaks if we need it,” the man insists.

Oikawa remains stubborn as well, not budging from his spot. He watches Iwaizumi’s frustration rising with each passing second of silence. The vein in his neck is bulging.

Unsurprisingly, Iwaizumi is the first to snap. “You either do the laundry in my room or you train with me. Make a decision and make it quick,” he instructs.

Oikawa rests his chin on his hand, humming thoughtfully towards the sky. “What if I don’t like either option?”

Iwaizumi’s voice comes subdued, but commanding. “Then I’ll come up there and drag you down myself to train,” he iterates, word for word. It sparks something excitable in Oikawa's chest.

And while Oikawa’s odds were favoured when Iwaizumi was an injured, sick creature, he’s certainly a force to be reckoned though Iwaizumi insists he isn’t at his max. One glimpse at his biceps is enough to solidify this thought. Oikawa smiles at the sight, thinking of something truly _lewd_ as he put it and Iwaizumi scowls, steering him back to the conversation.

Pouting, Oikawa turns his nose up. “Not fair. I don’t know how to do laundry anyway,” he whines in protest.

“Of course you don’t,” Iwaizumi mutters, but Oikawa thinks he says it loud enough to be heard on purpose. “Then you’re brushing up on your skills.”

Oikawa rolls his eyes and scoffs, descending the stairs step-by-step just to watch the pinch between Iwaizumi’s eyebrows grow. “Fine. But I never fight for fun,” he huffs. “So, let’s make things interesting with a wager.”

“I’m listening,” Iwaizumi says, his expression sour though he’s intrigued.

Oikawa pauses on the last step, cracking a grin. “If I win more rounds than you, I want you to draw me a bath and wash me head to toe.”

Now, he gets the cute reaction out of Iwaizumi he was striving for earlier. The wide eyes, followed by a flush blooming across his tanned face and parted lips, too shocked to say anything for a few seconds.

It’s short-lived though and Oikawa could pout at the scowl replacing Iwaizumi’s cute expression. “No,” he declines.

Oikawa takes the last step, circling Iwaizumi and pausing by his side to murmur close to his ear. “What’s there to lose? I think we both know I won’t win, it’s just a little bet for fun, Iwa-chan. You know how to do that, right? Have fun?”

Iwaizumi sighs. “And what if I win more rounds?” He asks impatiently.

Oikawa’s grin grows ferocious. He steps in front of Iwaizumi, leaning close and stroking a finger in the insider collar of his shirt lightly, knuckle brushing against his skin. “Well, whatever you want I suppose,” Oikawa hums.

To his utmost surprise, Iwaizumi also moves closer to Oikawa, tilting his chin to meet his gaze head on. For a moment, (just one) Oikawa thinks Iwaizumi is going to kiss him.

Until he opens his mouth.

“If I win, you do my laundry,” Iwaizumi says, delivering a sharp jab to Oikawa’s gut with the tip of the sword. He doubles over with a gasp, nearly knocking Iwaizumi’s head with his chin had the man not moved out of the way to walk further into the open space in front of the fort. Oikawa grasps the wooden sword and lifts his head to glare at the back of Iwaizumi’s head.

He’s going to make him regret that.

***

They agree to a best of three.

Oikawa weighs up his options going into this fight, deciding between two. The first, a defensive tactic. He has a feeling Iwaizumi won’t go all out on him starting off. He’s lead to believe this for several reasons; One being this is the first strenuous activity he’s had since the injury. Iwaizumi seems to have learned his lesson about trying to force himself beyond what his body can handle. Another reason- he can tell Iwaizumi is cautious about Oikawa’s injury too. The guy might have a stony exterior, but Oikawa has learned in their time together he has a considerate nature.

The second tactic involves going on the offensive to start. In doing this, Oikawa would expose his skill from the get go and it might give Iwaizumi more time to adjust to his fighting and devise counter attacks.

Here’s the thing though: Oikawa hasn’t fought in a long time. If he were to spend the time trying to remember the last instance he held a sword in front of someone, he’d have been struck by the first swing of Iwaizumi’s. And though it’s been so long, the instinct he trained into his body from so many years has not vanished. He meets the blow quick and parries the next that follow.

Oikawa has absolutely zero desire to learn how to do laundry. Today, or ever.

So, he goes on the offensive to prevent Iwaizumi from gaining any sort of dominance over their battle. It takes him less than thirty seconds to have his training sword lined up at Iwaizumi’s throat. Iwaizumi stares down at the sword in confusion, taking a couple blinks to figure out he lost.

“You said you wouldn’t be a worthy opponent,” Iwaizumi reminds.

“Did I? Well, maybe I was being modest,” Oikawa shrugs with a sweet smile, lowering the sword. Iwaizumi's eyes narrow.

In their second round, Oikawa can tell right away Iwaizumi was holding back during the previous. It’s a realization which annoys him, but he supposes he wasn’t being honest with his fighting abilities either. The amount of force in Iwaizumi’s attacks grow, and Oikawa struggles once or twice with his blocks, but manages to stay afloat enough to come up with a counter attack. Holy hell, maybe it’s because he’s not in the same condition he was as a younger fighter, but Iwaizumi has _power_ in his every movement.

He learns Iwaizumi isn’t the type of fighter to rely solely on strength though. Unfortunately, he comes to this conclusion after it’s too late. Iwaizumi was purposefully waiting for Oikawa to counter, as an opportunity to avoid the swing of his sword and get in a quick jab.

Oikawa fumbles a step, grunting as he accepts the loss.

In their third round, something familiar begins to stir inside of Oikawa. A sensation once thought to be lost forever due to the injury, sparking excitement down every bone in his ribcage. The thrill of a good fight, against a worthy opponent. But, to also know he’s in no serious danger allows the fight to be enjoyable. It won’t end in bloodshed, rather bruises and bumps. Oikawa can already feel one forming on his side where Iwaizumi struck him. Maybe he'll persuade Kenma to heal him later.

It’s a tiresome fight, drawn out much longer than the previous two. Both of them have had time to study each other’s fighting style and adapt quickly. However, as it becomes drawn out into a long rally, Oikawa loses steam and loses a second time in a row.

Iwaizumi suggests a break before the fourth round. Oikawa is huffing out breaths, feeling his pulse in the tips of his fingers. He feels his hands trembling; from excitement or exhaustion he is uncertain.

But he shakes his head and doesn’t give Iwaizumi the luxury of responding, leaping forward towards the man and delivering rapid slices. Iwaizumi dodges each one of them. On the third consecutive thrust, Iwaizumi parries Oikawa’s sword and had he not experienced it the first time, Oikawa would have fallen prey to Iwaizumi’s powerful retaliating swing. He jumps away far enough to avoid it, but feels the air cutting in front of his face from the swing.

Damn. He’s in trouble if he takes a blow like that. And Iwaizumi leaps to close the gap between them with second attempt, not giving Oikawa much of a chance to offset the impact. He parries the horizontal slice and spins to give himself strong momentum, attempting a slash at his legs. Iwaizumi adjusts his grip with a nimble wrist, driving the training sword to the ground and meeting the blow.

Oikawa can’t help the savage grin on his face, quickly shifting his weight onto his right leg and driving his knee up into Iwaizumi’s wrist. Iwaizumi’s utters a harsh sound, releasing his grip and Oikawa swipes him with a slice to his arm.

His pulse is in his ears. Sweat has coated a layer over his body and Oikawa is left near heaving in an attempt to catch his lost breath. Iwaizumi appears to be in a similar state, lifting the bottom of his shirt to wipe sweat from his face.

“We’re taking a break,” Iwaizumi declares.

“What the matter, Iwa-chan? Tired already?”

“Shut up,” the man replies. “We’re both going to regret it later if we overexert ourselves.”

But Oikawa doesn’t want to rest. No, it’s more- it’s a need. Adrenaline spreads through every vein beneath his skin. It leaves prickles and tings of buzzing over every inch of his body. He can’t sit still, be it for a couple minutes to calm his racing heart. It’s been so long, _too_ long since he’s enjoyed himself like this. A taste of water for the starving man in the desert. The first bite of a meal for the hungry. It’s a single scratch at the surface, but it’s enough to leave Oikawa fervent.

He surges towards Iwaizumi again. Surprise fills the man, but he brings his training sword in front of himself to block the blow. They hold each other in a deadlock, swords pushing against each other.

“Fuck Oikawa, give yourself a minute, would you!?” Iwaizumi yells, gaining the upper hand and giving Oikawa a hard shove.

Oikawa only takes a few withdrawing steps to regain his balance and he springs at Iwaizumi. His attacks are blocked, even as he leaps around the side of Iwaizumi to get the slip on him.

In the midst of grappling, Iwaizumi’s elbow meets his face. It’s not as hard as Oikawa expected it to be, but the force is enough to throw his balance off, giving Iwaizumi the opportunity to advance. He pats his nose quickly to check for blood. Nothing.

“Fine, I’ll give you a loss since you want it so bad,” Iwaizumi snarls at him.

Well, shit. Maybe Oikawa should have taken the offer before rushing into this fight. He’s normally level-headed about most things, but the thrill of the fight with Iwaizumi (and the stakes of the bet) has him throwing logic over his head without a care. He wonders how much tougher he would be if the injury was completely healed. Distracted by such baiting thoughts, he grows sloppier in his strikes and blocks, nearly losing his grip after a particularly nasty dig from Iwaizumi. But he can’t let himself stay unfocused. He’s made his decision and there’s no backing out now!

 _Think, think_ … his mind urges him.

He has to figure out a way to end this, and fast. Stamina is a prowess favouring Iwaizumi and it's sensible. He is the regular fighter of the two. Oikawa can’t try to drag the final round out and hope for a chance, he’s got to create his own opportunity, but _how?_

He leaps out of the way of Iwaizumi’s jump strike. As his feet touch the ground, Oikawa hisses and releases a pained sound, twisting his face in pain and kneeling onto his left leg. Iwaizumi’s assault halts and he pauses with his hands raised, ready to club him with the sword.

And there it is.

Oikawa springs upwards, delivering a rapid blow to his stomach.

Payback, you see.

Iwaizumi drops his sword, doubling over and for a moment Oikawa forgets his last-second scheme worked.

Until Iwaizumi raises his head, and oh boy is he ever _pissed_.

Oikawa waves the training sword around casually, though he knows his clothes stick to his skin on various places and his words come out breathless. “So Iwa-chan, I’ll take my bath as soon as possible.”

Iwaizumi’s fists are tense at his side. “You cheated; you didn’t win shit!” He barks out.

“It was a tactical move,” Oikawa corrects, blowing him a kiss. “Don’t be upset you fell for it. “

Iwaizumi stays silent, then abruptly turns around and heads up the stairs of the fort.

“I like my baths really hot Iwa-chan!”

“ _Fuck you, Shittykawa_!”

With his back turned, Oikawa picks up Iwaizumi’s training sword and walks around the building to put them away. He limps lightly on his right leg, but he’s unable to fight the exhausted grin on his face.

* * *

Sugawara reaches for the flask in the bag attached to his horse. He unscrews the cap, lifts it to his mouth only to be rudely reminded he ran out of water earlier in the day. Not a huge problem, but definitely annoying. Sugawara releases a sigh and caps the flask, putting it away. Less than a minute later, Kageyama rides next to him and offers his without a word. Sugawara exhales and takes it.

“Thank you,” he says quietly. It's the first pleasant thing he's said to Kageyama in days.

Kageyama nods and doesn’t say anything else, accepting the flask returned to him. He remains by his side though, and Sugawara sneaks a glance over. Catching the troubled expression on his face, Sugawara has to appreciate the effort he’s giving. Kageyama’s lips pinch together, tight and tense as if he bit into a lemon. It's his _I'm thinking of a way to fix this, but I don't know how_ face.

“I don’t hate you, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Sugawara offers.

Kageyama eyes him wearily, like his thoughts have been read. Sugawara looks in front of them, a small smile on his face. Further ahead, Bokuto is chatting with Tsukishima and Akaashi while he leads the fugitives on their own horses.

“I get mad because I care. When you get hurt, you're not the only one in pain.” Sugawara says. He lulls on the next words, wondering if he should say them. “I didn’t know if you’d live past the first night and I couldn’t help grieving like it would be your last.”

A stretch of nothing except for the faint chatter of Bokuto up ahead and the sounds of nature. “Oh.”

“Yea.”

“Sugawara?”

He meets Kageyama’s gaze. “What is it?”

“I’m sorry.”

There are never any niceties in his rare apologies, but it doesn’t mean they are any less sincere. Sugawara offers a forgiving smile.

“No more stupid stunts,” Kageyama says, remaining serious. “I mean it.”

Sugawara almost laughs, but he holds it in because he knows Kageyama is trying. He also knows the likelihood of him doing something stupid again is high. “Tell me, why were you so insistent on getting this job as quick as possible? You’re not usually impatient and sloppy.”

Kageyama’s face runs blank and he leers forward. Sugawara raises an eyebrow curiously. “Tobio? Is there something you’re not telling me?” He asks.

“It’s nothing,” he assures. Sugawara continues to grill with an inquisitive stare and Kageyama purses his lips uncomfortably, lasting about ten seconds longer. “This mission is important to me, I guess,” he acknowledges.

“Oh? Because it’s high profile?”

Kageyama shakes his head. “I met with Prince Hinata the night before we accepted the mission,” he forces out.

Sugawara is not expecting to hear that. “Oh? What for?”

“He wanted to train with me.”

The healer laughs disbelievingly. “Really?”

“I thought it was weird too.”

“I think it’s weirder you agreed to it,” Sugawara adds. Maybe he was forced to? He faintly recalls Kuroo saying royalty don’t take rejection well. At the same time, there are fewer stubborn than Kageyama so it can prove a challenge to force him into something he doesn’t willingly agree to.

Kageyama’s lips press together, mulling over his next choice of words. Or, he is uncomfortable and doesn’t know what to say in response to his comment. Sugawara decides the latter is far likelier.

“Anyway, I’m not sure how it came up, but between rounds he asked how I learned to fight. I told him how my mother taught me, and he started telling me about his. I guess he didn’t know her well. She died after giving birth.”

Sugawara dwells to himself. It took the Prince a mere few hours to learn something it took him months to. Granted, Kageyama was much younger, much more frightened and angrier. “That’s sad, growing up without a mother,” he concedes, speaking from experience.

Kageyama nods. “It was strange. The Prince I mean. He's…genuine. Stupid at times, but I could tell he cares about his people. He made me rethink my views on him and the mission without saying a thing about it. I didn’t realize until I went to Iwaizumi and explained we should take it. He goaded me so easy.”

His last sentence is spoken with disdain. Sugawara keeps a clean composure, though it proves a challenge. He has to peek away to hide the smile spreading unwillingly on his face. Oh, he cannot wait to tell Daichi all about this.

Thinking of him stings, taking all of the amusement away in a matter of seconds.

“Sugawara?”

He forces a smile over the hurt. “Let’s get home safe,” he says softly. They’re only two days shy of getting to the city. It gives him relief, but he knows not to grow impatient. He won't be satisfied until they're all reunited and safe.

Kageyama nods.

* * *

“Do it, Iwa-chan.”

“I won’t.”

“It’s part of the deal.”

“ _I never agreed to this!_ ”

“Undressing is part of the bathing process!”

Iwaizumi’s fists are aching from how tightly he’s clenching them. Is it possible to hate someone as much as you’re attracted to them? A thought he can’t say he’s proud of, yet the question still jumbles around in his brain.

“You _cheated!_ ” Iwaizumi wails, a pitiful last attempt to fight this by most standards. Oikawa obviously thinks the same, if his arched eyebrow and judgemental stare are anything to go by.

“We’re past that by now, aren’t we?” Oikawa says, gesturing to the wooden tub filled with hot water next to them. “Accept your fair loss already.”

Iwaizumi’s face scrunches in protest, but he reminds himself (for the infinite time) he shouldn’t be letting himself get worked up by Oikawa. It’s the name of his game; provoking Iwaizumi to new levels of pissed off. Somehow, Oikawa always knows the right things to say to achieve such a feat.

Taking a breath to compose himself, Iwaizumi shakes his head and reaches for the hem of Oikawa’s, actually _his_ shirt, pulling it up. “Whatever game you’re playing, cut it out,” he scolds, getting minor satisfaction out of the small grunt Oikawa gives when the shirt gets caught in his arms. He’s left trying to wiggle out of it and Iwaizumi would be lying if he said he didn’t try to keep him tangled and struggling like a fool for a few extra seconds.

It's worth the unimpressed scowl he gets from Oikawa. So is his messed-up hair.

“Are you serious?” Oikawa asks him with a huff.

“Very,” Iwaizumi says, tossing his shirt to the ground. He crouches at Oikawa’s feet, unlacing his boots next. He pulls them off with rough tugs and Oikawa lays a hand on his shoulder to avoid falling over from Iwaizumi’s sudden rowdiness.

Left only in a pair of Iwaizumi’s pants, Oikawa glares at him while he stands up. “Are you capable of being anything other than a brute?” He asks sarcastically.

In response, Iwaizumi lays his hands on either side of Oikawa’s hips gently, his thumbs curling underneath the top of his pants. He watches how Oikawa fills with surprise at the action; his body stiffening. One of Iwaizumi’s thumbs inches along his stomach, tracing along the skin to the front of his pants, slow and light. Throughout all these simple actions, Iwaizumi keeps his gaze locked on his hands except for the short glance he sneaks at Oikawa. Quick enough to see him also watching, still baffled.

Iwaizumi’s hands slip beneath the fabric at his hips and he eases his trousers and undergarments down. Slow. He makes sure of it. Practically inching them down past his hips, Iwaizumi releases the clothing and it drops to the ground with a delicate sound.

Iwaizumi lifts his head to read Oikawa's expression again. He's still struck in awe, under the illusion Iwaizumi has managed to create for him. Iwaizumi leans close enough to study the various shades of bronze in his eyes. “Plenty capable,” he assures Oikawa, walking around him to grab a washcloth from the nearby table with his own gloating smile. So, maybe he gets why Oikawa enjoyed holding a power trip over him. To be on the receiving end is terrible, but who wouldn't enjoy making this asshole shut up? Another tick on the wall of thoughts that should be tread with caution.

He hears Oikawa stepping into the tub without a word in response and Iwaizumi revels in the small win. Only for a short time though, as it takes Oikawa all of ten minutes to get over being flustered, especially after whining at Iwaizumi to stop scrubbing him so hard.

He turns to Iwaizumi at some point, who pauses in the midst of washing his arm. “Can you keep a secret, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa asks.

“Sure,” Iwaizumi agrees, returning to lathering the soap and wondering if this is another mind game in the works.

“Today was the first day I fought in years,” Oikawa admits.

“I wouldn’t have known,” he says, rolling out his shoulders and feeling the soreness. “Relentless with your quick jabs. I could barely keep up.”

Oikawa smiles, strangely shy when he speaks. “Want to hear another?”

Iwaizumi nods, moving the cloth up his arm. He shuffles his stool around the tub so he’s behind Oikawa, washing along his shoulders.

“I was supposed to fight some guards a few days ago during our escape. It was supposed to be my moment!” He brings a clenched his fist in front of him. “My comeback, you know? But then Kenma went and stunned us and well, you know what happened next. But it turns out, I was really glad I didn’t have to fight. I got scared, faced with the opportunity. Silly, right?”

The last sentence is asked with his false nicety. Iwaizumi considers his words. “No. It would be stupid for your first fight in years to be something so dangerous.”

Oikawa hums.

“Say what you’re thinking,” Iwaizumi comments intuitively.

“How do you know I’m thinking of something?”

Is it the distant mannerism? Or maybe the way he’s continuously brushing his knuckles to his lips, like he’s reminding himself to not let the wrong thing slip. The silence? Oikawa is never quiet, always ready with something witty on his tongue.

“Dunno, but I can tell,” Iwaizumi replies with a shrug, unsure how it would come off if he admitted the guttural feelings.

Oikawa turns to him again, a glint in his eyes. “Y’know Iwa-chan, it's redundant to get washed by someone so filthy.”

Iwaizumi catches the deflection like the cicadas he used to as a child. He’s annoyed by it and maybe he shouldn’t be, because it’s not like he owes him anything. He’s frustrated though. Oikawa throws him a rope only to pull it out of reach before Iwaizumi can grasp it. Why’d he bring it up if he doesn’t want to talk about it?

He pushes his thumb into a bruise on Oikawa's left shoulder. The man hisses, arching forward to flee the prodding finger. “If you have a problem with this, then it’s on you,” Iwaizumi fires out.

Oikawa waves him off, scrunching up his face. “I’m not saying that at all. Why don’t you join me in here? We can both get clean at once,” he offers. It’s impossible to miss the undertones in his glazed words. The forced coyness.

“I’ll pass,” Iwaizumi says curtly. He thought they were done with this back and forth teasing. It appears this is not the case.

“Come on, I’m not above sharing a bath with someone so handsome,” Oikawa insists, wading over to the edge of the tub in front of Iwaizumi and folding his arms over.

Iwaizumi tries not to let his nerves show. Oikawa is trying to lure him. "Why are you so shameless?" He scoffs out.

Oikawa isn't deterred. "Well, I want to make sure the message gets through clear," he explains cheerily, knocking on Iwaizumi's head lightly.

Iwaizumi grips his wrist tight, pulling it away. “Between the two of us, I’d say you’re the filthy one.”

A vicious upwards curl of Oikawa’s mouth. “Maybe, but I can tell you like it.”

“You need to get your head checked if that’s what you think.”

Oikawa’s smile grows increasingly devious by the second. “The denial is cute, Iwa-chan. I know a repressed man when I see one. How long has it been since you’ve laid with a man? Weeks? Months? _Years_?” He gasps at the lack of response. “Don’t tell me it’s been years.”

Iwaizumi stares, not uttering a single word.

Oikawa rolls his eyes. “Oh, come on, don’t give me that look. Do you think I’m dumb? I saw the way you behaved at the brothel. Men don’t have that kind a reaction to naked women, even if they’re shy.”

“I don’t think it’s any of your business,” Iwaizumi comments, voice tense. He can’t help it, a natural defensive mechanism ingrained into him.

“There’s nothing to be shy about! I bed a cute man here and there myself, but they’re difficult to come by,” Oikawa pouts, leaning forwards and tapping his nose lightly. “But now I’ve got one in front of me, so maybe we can do each other a favour, hm?”

Iwaizumi swats his hand away, glaring with something Oikawa has become used to, considering the persisting smirk. “Don’t talk out of your ass,” he snaps.

It’s not a denial. Oikawa senses this. “I’m very serious. Need me to prove it?” Oikawa asks with a smile.

Maybe he’d have agreed to it if he wasn’t so annoyed. Too bad he is, and a good lay doesn’t entice him into a better mood. “Not at all,” Iwaizumi declines, wringing out the wash cloth in the bath and standing up.

“Bath time’s over. Dry yourself off,” Iwaizumi says, grabbing the towel and tossing it at Oikawa. He catches it clumsily, pouting at Iwaizumi’s retreating form.

He’s still holding the damp washcloth tightly in his hand as he reaches his bedroom. Iwaizumi scowls down at it.

* * *

In the hours approaching dawn the next day, everyone inside the fort sleeps soundly.

And so, no one is awake or around to notice the glow of torches exploring the forests after discovering an abandoned wagon on the outskirts. The men agreed it had not been caught on a previous scouting and with some consideration, it was deemed a lead worth pursuing.

No one detects the group of men coming across the clearing in the forest and spotting the fort.

Or that the men retreat to gather reinforcements.

And a larger group shows up to the fort before the sun has fully risen.

* * *

Hinata scrambles up from Kageyama’s bed at the sound of a door slamming so loud it could have broken the frame. Yelling follows the noise, and Hinata springs off the bed and up to his feet to figure out what’s going on, still blinking dark spots of sleep from his vision. Repeated crashing from further in the fort, and Hinata recognizes Oikawa's voice, yelling out protests. His voice is cut off, but there are many different voices overlapping and he can’t make sense of it.

In the next few seconds, many things happen very quick.

Hinata lays a hand on the handle and unlatches the door. It slams open with abrupt force on the opposite side and knocks Hinata backwards onto the ground with a rough landing. Before he can recover from the impact, or open his eye to inspect what happened, a pair of hands slide beneath his underarms and haul him up off of the ground.

“Wha-“ Hinata tries to gasp out and resist, to no avail. Suddenly he’s partially upside-down, his forehead meeting cool, hard metal. He realizes he’s been thrown over someone’s shoulder. Hinata raises his head to stop the blood rushing to it. Two of his own guards trail behind him, not saying anything.

“Put me down! What do you think you’re doing!?” He orders, pressing his hands against the guard’s armour so he can somewhat prop himself up.

“Rescuing you from your kidnappers,” one of the guards answers simply.

Hinata can’t form a coherent response to try and argue, instead grunting as he tries to wiggle his way out of the guard’s hold on him. He halts at the sound of screaming outside, turning his head to try and locate it. The front room is empty as they pass by. The front door opens and Hinata is brought outside, then dropped to the ground roughly. He opens his mouth to demand an explanation but he pauses, stunned by the sight in front of him.

There has to be at least a hundred guards surrounding the clearing in the forest, all standing still like they’re ready to be called into action at any given command. His attention is drawn to the middle of the clearing at the sight of Iwaizumi, Daichi and Kuroo on their knees with their hands bound. Each one of them is sporting some kind of an injury, most likely from trying to resist arrest. Opposite to them, Oikawa, Nishinoya, Asahi and Tanaka stand stiffly. They aren't restrained or forced to the ground, but a ring of guards surrounds them, weapons held in their hands. Their fugitive has been given his own horse, smiling smugly at Hinata from his position below.

And as Hinata settles on the space at the bottom of the steps, betrayal clamps down on his heart, effectively cutting off his ability to process anything other than shock. He tries to take a tentative step backwards and meets the front of one of the guard’s chest plates with a hollow sound.

Standing at the bottom of the stairs, Kenma stands with his head so low his face is hidden by his hair. In front of him, his father stands proudly, arms folded into the sleeves of his dark robes.

“Your Highness,” his low voice coos. “It is a miracle you are safe.”

“Lord…Kozume?” He whispers.

“We’ve been worried for your safety. Nearly everyone across the land has probably heard of your disappearance by now. How lucky we are to have rescued you from these filthy mercenaries.”

Every second, ten new thoughts sprout from Hinata's mind, overloading him. He can barely force words out. “But, that’s not-“

“Guards, help Hinata to his horse. He’s clearly disturbed from the terrible events which have transpired.”

“No,” Hinata denies, refusing to accept the situation. “Don’t touch me!” He orders one of the guards who lays a hand on him. “I order you to stop this and release those men!”

One on the guard’s shoves him forward. Hinata catches himself, almost losing balance and tumbling down the stairs. He grips onto the stone railing in place. All he can do is blink shock.

“I’m afraid the guards don’t take orders from you, fledgling Prince,” Lord Kozume explains.

It’s too much. It’s like Hinata has fallen prey to one of Kenma’s stun spells, unable to move his legs that have cramped tightly.

“Get going,” one of the guards orders from behind him.

Hinata focuses down the stairs and takes a step. “Kenma,” he calls.

Kenma doesn’t raise his head.

Another few steps. “Kenma, please.”

His voice cracks. Hinata thinks Kenma’s head buries itself further into the ground.

“Just tell me why,” the Prince begs, already halfway down the stairs with tears forming. He can feel the patch covering his eye grow damp.

“You fucking spineless traitor, answer him!” Kuroo bursts out, from his spot on the ground. It earns him a brutal kick to the face from a guard and the attention of Kenma’s father.

“My, you’ve got quite the mouth on you,” Lord Kozume comments. He steps towards Kuroo, stopping about a foot in front of him with a passive expression. Kuroo’s head turns to him lazily, still hazed out from the kick. “What’s your name, boy?” Lord Kozume asks.

“Fuck you,” Kuroo answers.

Hinata pauses at the bottom of the stairs, reaching a hand out to grasp Kenma’s sleeve. One of the guards pulls him away before he can.

Kenma’s father drops into a kneel, and as Hinata turns to observe them, Lord Kozume has a small smile his face. “I’ll ask one more time. What is your name?”

Kuroo’s face twists into something angry. Hinata isn’t sure how, but his hands free themselves and he thrusts an arm forward.

“Don’t!” Kenma cries out, finally lifting his head and yelling his plea towards Kuroo.

A rod of something black, magic by the appearance, discharges from Kuroo’s hand and pierces through Lord Kozume’s shoulder. Surprise takes the man’s features and he staggers back from the attack while several guards work to restrain, or rather beat Kuroo into submission in case he tries anything else. Another asks if the Lord if he’s okay.

Lord Kozume ignores the fuss and begins chuckling, bringing a hand to his shoulder. A small glow hovers from his hand and the wound begins healing. “Ah, it appears I do not require a name after all,” he pants.

Kuroo stares from a heap on his side, his face already blossoming with bruises. One guard pins him down with a sharp knee into his spine and a hand holding his head to the ground, while another binds him a second time. Blood stains Kuroo’s face and hate fills his eyes, watching Lord Kozume step closer. The hunter approaching the wounded, yet persistently wild animal.

The Lord kneels down in front of him again, a tired smile on his face. “Kuroo Tetsurou. It is a pleasure to finally meet the only one who has ever successfully escaped my walls,” he says, calm yet cunning.

Hinata has never watched someone’s entire demeanor shift into fear so fast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 😬😬😬 Aight imma head out before y'all come for me


	16. So Long, and Goodnight

Yamaguchi is in the midst of snipping a branch off of a hedge when the loud clinking of the gates opening hits his ears. He’s in the front courtyard, helping Yachi with her daily chores, figuring since he’s got nothing else to do to pass time during his days, he might as well lend a hand. They’ve been working on the courtyard all morning, Yamaguchi trimming the hedges while Yachi prunes the various flowers and shrubs.

Yamaguchi pauses with the shears in his hands, sparing a glance over his shoulder. His jaw goes slack at the sight of the group of guards, slowly trailing past the gates. They’re back…

“Yamaguchi?” Yachi’s voice calls to him. He doesn’t turn around, instead taking a couple paces closer to the growing number of guards to get a better view. A familiar head of orange hair sticks out from the mass of silver armour.

He parts his lips, takes in a small inhale to tell Yachi the Prince is _alive_ and home, but the words die before they can translate into sound. Riding in front of the Prince, Yamaguchi spots the Lord from the library. Next to him, Lord Kozume rides with his head cast downwards. Behind the Prince, Lord Oikawa and Sir Azumane ride, also appearing…defeated. _Yes_ , Yamaguchi thinks, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. _They look like they’ve all lost._

Except for the familiar Lord, who rides atop his horse with his chin held high. Who, now that he thinks about it, is awfully similar to-

Yachi gasps sharply from behind him, drawing Yamaguchi from his dawning horror to turn to the girl. She has given her full attention to the scene in front of them as well, standing from the rose bush she was pruning and pressing her gloved hands to her mouth.

“The Prince?” She asks, like she’s not sure if what she’s seeing is correct. Her voice is muffled behind her gloves. “He’s okay?”

Yamaguchi doesn’t know if he would use that word. A large distance is between themselves and the Prince, but something is covering one of his eyes and Yamaguchi wonders what happened. His head is also hung low, almost shamefully. It's very different from his usual boisterous demeanor. 

Yamaguchi isn’t really giving him much attention though. Maybe he should be, but he remains transfixed on the Lord.

“Yachi?” He asks.

The girl looks to him, dropping her hands enough to ball nervously under her chin. There are smudges of dirt on her face from her gloves. Yamaguchi might have awkwardly informed her had he not been in the middle of trying to keep his legs steady.

“Who’s the man next to Lord Kozume?” He asks, though Yamaguchi already has a sinking feeling.

Yachi’s eyebrows knit together. “That man _is_ Lord Kozume, Yamaguchi. Lord Kenma is his son though, so I guess they both go by the same title.”

Yamaguchi’s ribcage feels as though it’s clamping in on itself, puncturing his lungs and preventing him from breathing properly.

“Yamaguchi? Is something the matter?”

Her voice stirs him a second time. Yamaguchi releases the tight grip he didn’t realize he was holding on the shears, as well as a long exhale. He shakes his head at Yachi, thinking he really shouldn’t worry so much about what-ifs.

The Prince is home now, after all.

***

That evening, he sits on the edge of his bed, wondering if he should bother having someone translate the book for him. Does it matter at this point? It’s not like this would be of any use to him anyway. For a bit he thought it might have held clues as to Hinata’s whereabouts or who is behind all of the tragedy, but now it feels like some sort of cursed object. Every day he posses it longer, he wonders if the original owner is trying to trace its whereabouts. One day he might wake up, open his door and be arrested for theft.

Maybe it was all just a wasted effort of stress. It sure starts to feel like it, at least. The trips to the library and the hidden office, which didn’t turn out to be much of a secretive thing at all. With Prince Hinata's return, things should be going back to the way they were soon enough. All that’s left now for Yamaguchi to be happy is for him to be able to visit his parents and await Tsukishima’s return.

Or at least, it’s what he thinks as Yamaguchi lays down to sleep. His mind is not settled enough for rest it seems, nearly an hour of tossing and turning leaving him nowhere close to dreaming. Yamaguchi rises from his bed and decides to go visit the horses to clear his head. He’s happy to have them home. It’s another piece of his life returning to the way it should be.

And he should be thankful. He tries to convince himself this while checking in on the horses, but Yamaguchi is still left feeling antsy. He pauses in front of Atticus’ empty stall last, standing nervously outside of it like the day he was called to the library, or during his early morning trip to the locked office. Yamaguchi sighs, entering closing the stall door behind him with a click.

He sinks to the ground on his knees. He digs his fingers into the roots of his hair, curling tight enough to pinch his scalp.

He already came here, why the hesitation?

The answer is obvious; fear.

Yamaguchi huffs to himself in spite of this, crawling forward and brushing away the pile of hay in the corner of the stall. Underneath, the guard’s uniform and the leather book. It takes him time to change into the outfit in the dark, but he eventually everything is in place and he’s sliding the helmet over his head. The book is tucked in his chest plate, snug against his sternum.

Exiting the stable, Yamaguchi heads towards the front gates. He pictures how Tsukishima walked, tall and proud like he was meant to be there and attempts to emulate it in his own. He can only hope he doesn’t look as stiff as he feels.

Two guards are posted at the gate. A drastic change from previous days, and the men are chatting amicably with each other. He guesses everyone is at ease now because Hinata is safe.

“Evening!” One of them calls, catching sight of Yamaguchi. He’s a bit too chipper for someone guarding the gate this late at night, Yamaguchi thinks.

Yamaguchi nods his head politely. “H-hello,” he stutters, lowering the pitch of his voice for reasons unbeknownst to him in the moment. “I need to get through the gate to deliver a message,” he requests, trying to sound as confident as the guards always do. It’s doesn’t sound convincing to himself.

The guards stare at each other blankly, and at the same time burst out laughing. “Listen to this guy!” One yells.

The other chirps in, clapping Yamaguchi’s shoulder plate harder than necessary and giving him a shake. “Hey, loosen up man, everything’s fine now! The Prince is alive and safe and those dirty mercenaries are gonna get their heads severed from their bodies to boot.”

“R-right,” Yamaguchi echoes, like he’s aware of this information already.

“Y’know how many guys like you have strolled by to ‘deliver a message’?” One of them jests. And when Yamaguchi doesn’t respond, the man gets closer. A faint smell of liquor is on the man’s breath. Ah, they’re drunk he supposes. “Well? Do ya!?” The man encourages.

“Uh, ten?”

The guard bursts out laughing. “Try half the unit! Everyone’s out getting piss drunk and fuckin’ to their heart’s delight. No need to try and be secretive about it boy,” he assures. The other starts unlatching the gate.

“Can’t blame him! Lord Kozume is an absolute monster. He scares the living shit out of me too.”

“The Prince should be thankful the Lord invested so much into finding him.”

Yamaguchi has several responses he wants to give, maybe a couple questions to ask, but bites his tongue instead. “He is, I’m sure.”

The moment he’s out of sight of the gate and the guards, Yamaguchi sprints. The streets are quiet and the damage around the city is prominent. Passing through the market square, his favourite fruit shop is no longer there. Wood, shingles and destroyed rubble lie in its place. A concerning amount of other buildings he passes suffer the same fate.

All of the ruin encourages Yamaguchi’s pace to quicken. The armour is heavy, echoing his strides in the silence. The constant clinking becomes rhythmic, and the quicker it gets the more Yamaguchi realizes his heart is syncing up with the sound. Beating so ferociously in his chest it almost throbs. He won’t stop though.

Not until he rounds the corner of his parent’s street and gets a view of it.

The house is untouched.

Yamaguchi releases a sound of relief, pressing his palms to his knees and doubling over to rest. They’re safe. Oh, he’s so happy they’re safe. His eyes start to water, but he pushes himself upright and walks towards the door, panting hard.

Yamaguchi all but bangs on the door in front of the house. He knows his parents are probably sleeping, but surely, they will forgive the rude awakening.

It takes time, but the front door unlatches and opens a few inches. His father stands with a freshly lit candle in hand, peering out at him.

“What do you want!?” He cries out. “Haven’t you terrorized everyone enough!?”

Yamaguchi rips his helmet off and swings the door open. His father’s expression falls slack and Yamaguchi notices his bandaged arm set in a sling.

“Tadashi?” His father questions, setting the candle down with a shaky hand. Further in the house, he hears his mother yelp in awe followed by scurrying footsteps.

Hearing his name sends Yamaguchi forward into his dad’s arms, mindful of his injury. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” he whispers. Fresh tears fill him and not seconds later, he’s weeping into his father’s arms, feeling his free arm wrap around him. His mom joins in on the hug as well, and Yamaguchi hears her sniffling.

It’s the first time he’s felt safe in so long. Naïve to think, Yamaguchi can hear Tsukishima saying to him in his head. But that doesn’t make it any less true.

* * *

Rose petals.

They’re falling from the sky.

It takes him time to realize what they are, staring at the featherlight scales falling from above, everywhere around him. A petal falls into his outstretched hand and it glides like silk between his fingers. Another touches his cheekbone before landing on the ground next to him.

So many petals fall, he can no longer see the blue sky above; only hues of ruby red, casting a harrowing layer over everything. Uneasiness hangs inside of him the longer he observes. Countless petals, why are they falling like this? There aren’t any trees in his immediate surroundings, or flowers nearby. So many have fallen, they form a pile around his body.

Suddenly, he coughs. With the heave of his chest, liquid spills from his mouth; warm and flooding down his chin and the sides of his mouth. He tries to sit up. His body won’t obey.

He tries to squint, lifting a hand to catch other petals. In seconds, a handful has pooled in his palm. He brings them close to his face, trying to understand what this means.

Like some sort of magic, the petals begin changing. The petals wilt into Oikawa’s hand, shrivelling and morphing into a liquid state. All he's left with is red stains, all over.

And he becomes aware.

The pain is his knee is indescribable. He wouldn’t know until later, after he was found by a small group of monks who came to bury the dead soldiers, that he had a large bruise on his forehead, a broken arm and three broken ribs as well. The pain in those areas were nothing compared to his shattered knee, so he can mind those injuries for the time being.

His knee isn't the worst of it though.

He turns his head while his mind screams not to. But he does it anyway, because his body has total control over his conscience.

Makki is face down about ten feet away. Blood pools from his chest to the ground surrounding him. Oikawa blinks and for a fleeting second the blood is replaced with rose petals, making Makki appear as though he is sleeping in a flower bed.

A choked sob wracks his chest.

A small groan comes from the other direction. Oikawa’s head turns to the source and lying on his side facing him, Mattsun stares his way, wearing a pained smile. His eye is a gouged-out mess; blood cascading down the right side of his face. A mutilated mess of what was his eye. Oikawa can see chunks of the cornea amongst the blood, tethered to the loosely hanging optic nerve. An arrow is pierced into Mattsun's leg, just above the knee.

“We fucked up bad this time, didn’t we?” Mattsun laughs. The spiteful humour dies on his lips and wheezing coughs overtake him. Oikawa blinks again and instead of Mattsun, Hinata replaces him. He offers the same kind of pained smile, sniffling as blood flow from the gash on his left eye.

Oikawa shuts his own as the petals fall in their cardinal downpour, burying his broken body until they cover him in an endless layer and he can no longer breathe.

He sits up from his bed with a heave of air, needing a minute or so to calm himself down and conclude he was in fact, dreaming.

* * *

Hinata steps into the council room, hearing the door shutting swiftly behind him. Sitting as the sole occupant at the large table, Lord Kozume is at the head, where Hinata would normally be sitting.

“Thank you for joining me, Your Highness. Please, have a seat,” the man offers, gesturing to the empty chairs.

 _It’s not like I was given much choice_ , Hinata thinks bitterly to himself as he pulls out the chair furthest away from Lord Kozume. The guards entered his room without warning and told him he was being summoned for a meeting. At first, he attempted to refuse and the men practically had to drag Hinata out.

“There are some matters which need attending to. I believe we can deal with it rather quickly,” the man explains.

Hinata remains quiet, having nothing to respond with but a tight frown. Lord Kozume takes a slow sip of wine from his cup before continuing. He doesn’t offer Hinata a drink.

“Let’s start with your and Kenma’s stunt. Quite the plan, I have to admit,” he says.

Hearing his friend’s name digs the knife deeper into Hinata’s back. “It was my plan. Kenma had nothing to do with it,” he insists.

“Admirable, sticking up for your friend. You always have been loyal to a fault, fledgling Prince,” Lord Kozume comments. “However, I am afraid the two of you have become too unhinged from your responsibilities. So much time wasted playing trick master with your mercenary toys. It’s deplorable.”

Hinata doesn’t think he’s reacting much, but Lord Kozume presses a loosely closed fist to his chin and smiles in amusement. He knows the man can tell he’s unsettled and he's taking full advantage of it.

Something isn't right. “I want to see Kenma,” Hinata insists. He balls his hands tightly in his lap.

“On the contrary, you and Kenma will be spending some much-needed time apart. He’s going to be taking a long trip, far from here.”

Hinata’s fists slam down on the table as he stands. “What? You can’t do that!” He insists.

Lord Kozume remains unphased by the outburst, eerily calm. “My Prince, this is where you should be picking up on something. You may possess the title of Crown Prince and soon enough it will be King, but it shall be nothing more. You are not fit to rule, and neither was your urchin of a father.”

“You…” Hinata’s voice drops, stunned by the blatant disrespect.

“He acted not as a King, but as a filthy street rat. Drinking with commoners in bars, gambling, sneaking out to meetup with women. Producing a bastard child and claiming him as a Crown Prince. Crude behaviour, unfit for someone of his title.”

Hinata steps back involuntarily, shuffling the chair backwards with a sharp sound. His head swirls dangerously light.

Lord Kozume pauses with the cup to his lips. “Oh, what’s this? You didn’t know?” He toys. "Your father never told you. I can't say I'm surprised."

Hinata’s jaw aches from how tight he’s clenching it. “Shut up! You’re lying, you don’t know what you’re talking about!”

The man scoffs. “Deny it all you want. You might be the son of the late King, but you’re a bastard. Your mother was the daughter of a blacksmith. A filthy peasant. It was a true gift of mercy the day she died giving birth to you,” Lord Kozume pauses to take another sip. “Unfortunately, you didn’t join her the same day, or the night I hired an assassin to deal with you. Perhaps if you’d have lied down and died alongside the Urchin King, things could have been so much easier.”

Lord Kozume pauses, waving his hand as if presenting a philosophical thought. “But things like this happen. Plans don’t always go accordingly and it’s up to us to be smart and quick enough to adapt.”

He downs the rest of the wine, setting the cup of the table with a light tap. His eyes narrow into something malicious, slicing Hinata into paper thin pieces. “I’ll let you live; You’ll obey my orders in exchange for granting such a gift.”

“This is insane,” Hinata mutters, lowering his head.

“Far from it, Your Highness. All you have to do now is sit back and smile. The fugitive you captured will be released and so will the other two I assume you are waiting on. Disobey these actions and it will be more than those mercenaries who get their heads planted on spikes at the trial. Perhaps Azumane could have been tied with this, or how about that smart-mouthed twat Oikawa? The smith men?” He lists. “There are so many you got involved here, did you not think about what would happen to them?”

Hinata remains silent.

“Yes, good. You’re halfway there,” Lord Kozume says, standing from his chair and walking towards the door. “Work on the smile though, you have to make it convincing in time for the trial.”

* * *

Kenma has only visited the Institute twice in his life. The first, was as an infant, so he has no recollection of the visit.

The other was two years previously. Shortly following his eighteenth birthday, Kenma’s father informed him they would be taking a trip in celebration. Never one to be happy to leave his home (unless it was to visit Shouyou at the castle), Kenma felt reluctant immediately. However, there was no room for negotiation and both he and his father set off together in a carriage to the Institute. A ten-day round trip. Kenma hated every second of it.

His first bout of relief came with their arrival and it was short lived. He remembers the rain pouring down, and thinking later it was a fitting atmosphere to walk into for a place like this. Stepping out of the carriage with cramped legs, he followed his father inside. Kenma stared up at the tall, ornate building an extra second, getting drenched. It was bigger than their estate in the city and much more ominous. A tall, stone wall surrounded the entire perimeter. They crossed through two separate gates to get inside. And Kenma noticed an alarming number of guards. He didn’t recognize their armour as he trailed behind his father, who launched into further explanation of the Institute’s history.

Kenma’s great grandfather had been the creator of the building. The man has been a master of several elements, including light, thunder, fire and dark magic. Born to a wealthy family in the city, he had a dream of opening the finest educational facility for mages. He established a reputation for his brilliance, and was able to meet with the King to present his idea. Haven been granted a small investment, Kenma’s great grandfather selected a plot of land southwest of the capital. In a rocky, mountainous terrain with no other surrounding towns for at least a day’s travel. The justification was students needn’t the distraction from their studies. The King found it diligent.

The building has been expanded twice since its initial creation. It has been operating for generations, producing only the most elite of dark mages. His father informed him there was no other place in the world where one could learn the practice. To this day, Kenma is unsure if it’s the truth. But given the fact that there are always many wealthy people across the world vying to purchase the crops of the Institute, it seems plausible.

During their tour of the building, Kenma heard a child screaming in the direction of the examination rooms.

“Some children get nervous during routine checkups,” his father commented absentmindedly.

Kenma was certain a check up was not the cause for such a reaction.

They passed by a room with young children in it, all sitting still and actively staring up at the mage demonstrating a small spell. Kenma only caught a glimpse, but almost all of them looked underweight and several children appeared sickly. Others carried bruises.

His legs felt wobbly by the time they reached his father’s study on the top floor. He sat in a chair opposite to his desk, while his father folded his hands together overtop of it.

“Most impressive, wouldn’t you say?” The man had asked him.

Kenma learned a lesson that day: You never expose your hand so early into a game.

“Father…this place feels wrong.”

Kenma knew it was the wrong choice of words the second he stopped talking. The stillness in his father’s posture. The crease between his brows.

“Pardon me?”

Panic arouse, leading to his mouth working faster than his mind. “The children are in school for over twelve hours a day. They only get to see the light of day during their training exercises. Their rooms resemble...prison cells,” he lists. There are so many other things he could have added, but he managed to shut himself up finally.

With each point, his father’s expression grew angrier. “The students live the best lives possible given their circumstances. Most of them are orphans, destined for nothing but a life of poverty, sickness and suffering. This place gives them a different route. A purpose in life.”

“To be sold as a weapon for the wealthy?” Kenma had bit out, knowing full well what the retort would earn.

His father stood up calmly, walked in front of him and punched him so hard Kenma fell off his chair.

“When did my coward son suddenly learn such disrespect?” He asked him. Kenma sat up, his cheek burning with pain. His father loomed over him and fear barraged through his walls, staring up at the man’s expression. Evil, could be the only appropriate word to describe it.

After Kenma returned, Shouyou asked him about the trip while they were reading in the library. Well, Kenma was reading and Shouyou flipped through books with cool illustrations on it, occasionally pointing them out to Kenma.

“So, how was the trip?”

Kenma didn’t lift his head from the book in his face. “Fine.”

“That’s it?” Shouyou asked doubtfully.

Kenma nodded.

He heard a thud, most likely Shouyou’s forehead dropping to the table. “Ugh, I bet it was so cool and you’re just holding back for my sake!”

Kenma felt nauseous and said nothing.

“Well, promise you’ll take me there sometime? Even if I have to wait until the Institute is formally passed on to you?”

“Sure, Shouyou.”

Kenma never intended for him to become aware of his family’s most shameful secret. When he gained possession of the Institute, he planned to shut it down as quickly as possible.

***

“You knew who he was all along, didn’t you?” His father asks him over tea on the verandah of their estate. He ordered the servants to leave them be, which Kenma knew meant something was coming.

His response is steady. “Of course not father. I would have told you from the start had I known.”

“Do not test me boy. I have half a mind to beat you unconscious for this stunt,” his father growls out.

Kenma doesn’t crack. “It’s the truth. I only found out in recent days and I was waiting until our return to turn him in to you. I know how much it would’ve meant to you, capturing such a traitor.”

He's surprised he can say it with conviction.

His father sips his tea, leering at Kenma. “He disfigured two of our finest mages,” his father recalls. “To think, I would have the opportunity to finally serve their justice.”

A lump settles in Kenma’s throat, making it challenging to swallow the tea down smoothly. “It’s only fitting for such crimes,” he echoes.

“Hmph. Perhaps I misjudged your actions Kenma. I always worried you were too faint of heart to be of any use.”

Kenma sips his tea to distract himself from the dread boiling in his gut.

“Despite this, I’m afraid there will still have to be consequences for your actions. But, let’s turn this mess into a beautiful opportunity then, no?”

A check mate, he realizes.

* * *

Hinata doesn’t look towards his bedroom door at the sound of it opening, expecting a guard to perform their routine check-in on him (every hour, he’s figured out) and leave without a word. The door clicks and he supposes that to be it, standing outside on his balcony with arms folded over the railing. He’s long past the cycles of pacing and panicking. Now, he’s been staring at the city for hours, feeling locked in a cage.

He hears footsteps trailing along his floor and Hinata turns to observe, blinking surprise at Oikawa standing across from him.

“How’d you get in?” Hinata asks, because since the return to the castle he has been forbidden to set foot outside of his room (aside from the meeting the day previously), or have any visitors. The two guards standing outside of his door have made sure of it. “I asked nicely,” Oikawa grins, folding his arms and leaning on the doorway of the balcony.

Hinata cracks a small smile, knowing it is absolutely not the truth. Finding a small light of solace in Oikawa’s presence, Hinata’s legs carry him forward and he wraps his arms around the man’s middle. Oikawa is stiff as Hinata presses his forehead into his chest. Only for a beat or two, before he feels a few pats to his back. Hinata’s shoulders tremble and the sobs follow soon enough.

He wails like a child, hiccupping and sniffling. Oikawa gently steers them towards the edge of the bed to sit on, still half-hugging him because Hinata doesn’t intend on letting go. Oikawa gets them both seated and lets him cry it out. Eventually, Hinata pulls away and wipes the tears away, breathing choppy.

He sniffles. “Sorry, I don’t know what came over me.”

Oikawa walks into his bathing room, returning quickly with a cloth so he can blow his nose. His advisor ruffles a hand through his hair. “Hey, don’t apologize. You needed to get it out.”

Hinata nods, then keeps his gaze low in his lap and wrings the dirty cloth. “What’s going to happen now?”

He hears his advisor sigh. “I wish I could say, Chibi-chan. Have you spoken to anyone else?”

Hinata recollects the earlier conversation with Lord Kozume. By the end of it, Oikawa seems to be at a loss of words. Funny, it doesn’t happen often Hinata thinks, ever the quick-witted man.

“Is Kenma bad, Oikawa?” Hinata struggles to ask between a couple hiccups.

Oikawa closes his eyes, running a hand over the back of his head. “I don’t know. If you look at the scoreboard so far, it’s not in his favour. But beyond that, I never pinned Kenma as the type to betray you.”

“I don’t know what to think. I thought I had it all figured out. I used all my resources and made so many plans. I considered all my options, like he told me to! Was it all a huge lie!?” Hinata yells, standing up. But as quick as the outburst comes, it disappears and Hinata is left hanging his head. “It turns out I don’t know a thing,” he murmurs. “I failed.”

Hinata turns to Oikawa. “I’m sorry. For Iwaizumi’s arrest.”

Detachment seeps into Oikawa. Hinata sees the hollowness in his gaze. “An apology isn’t necessary.”

Hinata shakes his head, staring at the ground and watching a tear fall to the ground. “It is. I’ve never seen you like that with someone. It's as though I've done you wrong.”

Oikawa stays quiet, but finally asks what he means.

“Like being around them makes you better. Happier,” he answers.

Banging comes from his door, preventing Oikawa from responding. They both turn towards the sound of the rattling of his doorknob, which appears to be locked now. Hinata has been instructed not to do so at any time.

They make eye contact, and Oikawa shrugs with a smile. “Don’t give up yet,” he insists, standing up from the edge of the bed.

“What do you mean?” Hinata asks, turning around to stare, rather confused. Oikawa is never one for blind optimism. He says it’s for imbeciles.

“Miracles have their own way of appearing,” Oikawa says playfully, ruffling his hair again. He walks towards the doorway, pausing to turn towards Hinata. Hinata hears muffled yelling from the other side. “Stay strong until then, Your Highness,” Oikawa says with a wink.

The door closes and Hinata lays on his bed, trying to think of a way to conjure up a miracle.

* * *

The man who has already experienced the greatest of all pains in life knows no limits. He does not fear pain, for he has borne the harshest scars it endows. Any other source of suffering may only ever approach a fraction of the worst he’s been through. And so, it leaves him almost void in the wake of traumatic events. It's how he's trained himself to react.

He fears the idea of the pain, recurring in his mind like moving paintings on a canvas. Oikawa closes his eyes and he pictures Hinata’s body in his dream, struggling to survive the inevitable suffering fate he’s doomed with.

He always told himself if the hands of time could be reversed, Oikawa would do things differently. He’d retrace every wrong move made and keep his friends and the other men in his platoon alive. It goes beyond the permanent injury he’s had to live with from the ambush. He’d trade out his other knee too if it meant having the others alive. An easy decision.

Tonight, he reminisces. Be it a result of the nightmare he hasn’t had in years, he thinks to himself- _Am I going to walk into the trap? Or am I going to do something about it?_

All of the shame and regret festered into a barricade over his heart should answer the question. He’s hurt so much already, what else does he have to lose?

The man who knows the worst pain fears it not.

But tonight, Oikawa fears.

He fears for Hinata. Not just for his safety, but for his well-being. So much has happened to the Prince in such a short time, no wonder he had a near breakdown in front of Oikawa earlier. Hinata is one of the few people Oikawa has met who he believes truly possesses a good heart. He’s lucky- well everyone in the land is lucky, to have someone with such a rare trait about to sit on the throne.

Oddly enough, he also fears for Kenma. He holds his own suspicions about whether Kenma is responsible for their whereabouts being discovered. It’s not like he can prove or disprove anything, but Oikawa has always held skill in reading people. He’s sure Kenma cares for Hinata as if they were family. Anyone who knew what the brunet was like in front of anyone else compared to the Prince could tell he held a special place in Kenma’s heart. He fears for him because he doesn’t know if Hinata will ever hold Kenma in the same regard and he knows it would all but destroy him.

And finally, he fears for Iwaizumi.

Oikawa doesn’t want new reminders of pain- ones that might actually come close (or worse) to hurting as bad as the ambush. He doesn’t _need_ those reminders. How much pain can one soul endure before they give out? A new picture paints itself in a sped-up time lapse in his mind. It’s one of Iwaizumi, kneeling on the platform while an executioner raises an axe above his head. He stares directly at Oikawa and his expression seem to say, _you did this to me, this is all because of YOU-_

“Heading somewhere tonight, Lord Oikawa?” A guard’s voice captures his attention abruptly. Oikawa hasn’t noticed he spaced out so much he walked to the front gate instinctively.

He flicks on his routine charm with ease, smiling at the guard. “Ah, yes. I miss my ladies and my wine. It’s been so long without either,” he sighs.

“I’m afraid it will have to go longer,” the man insists.

He cocks his head to the side. “What’s the matter? Lockdown isn’t in effect any longer.”

The guard remains placid. “It is for you, Lord Oikawa.”

Oikawa’s eyebrows draw down, his façade cracking. “Huh?” He asks, rather dumbfounded.

“We have orders from the Prince himself to keep you detained within the castle walls,” the guard insists. The other nods as Oikawa glances his way.

“From the Prince himself, hm?” Oikawa ponders, holding a hand held to his chin and glancing upwards. His eyes drop to the guard and he springs forward, unsheathing the guard’s sword from his belt. He points the blade at his throat.

Hostility enters Oikawa’s voice, his disposition switching from cheery to malicious in seconds. “If you think I’m going to allow such insolence, you’re a fucking fool,” he hisses, pressing the blade into his skin, not hard enough to draw blood. “Do you think I’m an idiot? Hinata never gave such an order. Was it that crusty, old feline Kozume?”

The other guard has his sword drawn, held towards him. “Lord Oikawa! Lower the weapon at once!”

Oikawa’s grip tightens. “You’re not the one giving orders,” he retorts. “Open the gate or I slit his throat. I’ll kill you right after I’m done with him, filthy traitor.”

The one with the sword to his throat yells. “Don’t listen to him! He’s got a busted leg; he can barely fight!”

"You want to test that?" Oikawa warns, edging the blade against his windpipe and hearing a choked noise from the guard. “I won’t ask again. Open the gate, scum,” he orders to the other.

“Sound… the bells!” The guard in front of stifles out.

Oikawa thrusts his arm forward. He restrains the second before he takes a few strides towards the bells. Oikawa wraps his arm around the man from behind and slits his throat.

It takes Oikawa less than a minute to have the gate open, and he escapes into the city streets without a trace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I’m thinkin for an epilogue…well one just ain’t enough. I’ve almost finished the story and I feel the romance between certain pairs (specifically K&K and K&H) deserve a little more attention. I could have forced it in there, but I know I would have hated it.
> 
> So, here’s what I’m thinking:
> 
> An epilogue for any ship requested in a comment. I’m fine with doing as many or little. Each one would be anywhere between 4-8 thousand words. And for the freaks (I say endearingly, because I am also one) who want more adult content, throw that in with your ship requests too. I probably could have gotten by with keeping this at an M, but that could very well change with the epilogues haha


	17. Apprehensions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Counting down the days until Oct 2nd... 

On the morning of the trial, Hinata blinks himself awake and is barely conscious of the fact. He sits up without a sound, pausing on the edge of his bed and staring out the window. Countless buildings stretch in the distance as the sun rises. A city filled to the brim with people and yet, never in his life has Hinata felt more alone.

Days of being locked in his room with no contact from anyone other than guards checking in and giving him food has left him relatively mute. He tests his voice and it's scratchy. His eye aches beneath the patch. It hasn’t been examined since they were at the mercenary’s fort, but Hinata doesn’t think about it much. It’s not as if a healer would be sent to him if he requested one from the guards on post outside of his door anyway.

As he changes out of his undergarments into formal attire, time passes both painfully slow and remarkably fast. A juxtaposition all too fitting. Hinata looks down at himself and observes he’s fully dressed, barely aware of his body running through the motions of pulling on his clothes. Scary to think either a chunk of his immediate memory has been sawed off, or rather he's so unaware of reality that he's blanking. Smoothing his sleeves out, Hinata stares at himself in the bronze mirror and frowns at the sight. He’s ashamed of what appears in the reflection.

He steps out of view, onto the balcony so he can watch birds in a small group flying in the sky. It will be a good way to pass time before he’s summoned. Hinata feels envious, head craned upwards at the spread wings of the crows. In his mind’s eye, he breaks free of this cage and flies away with them.

But his wings are clipped, preventing him from any means of escape, let alone survival.

* * *

Kuroo wakes up, slumped in one of the corners of his prison cell. Every time he breaks sleep, he momentarily thinks he’s a child, sitting up in his similar cell in the Institute. It hasn’t failed to frighten him, no matter how many times he reminds himself he’s no longer there. The feeling of helplessness persists, nevertheless.

Raising into a sitting position, it seems every muscle in his body aches with protest. His mouth is dry and his stomach cries for sustenance. His clothes are dirty and so is he, having been confined in the cell for days. He thinks. It’s hard to tell how much time has passed with no light source present.

Today, he’s reminded of the day of his escape. The anticipation and fear of what’s to come. However, this time he has no plan to get away. This time, he feels like he’s simply waiting for the end to come. What other way could he view it? Everything is out of his control now. He’s done everything he can. Maybe it was all for nothing. All his trauma and hate, and trying to be something greater than his suffering. Wasted.

He wishes he could protest such a defeated train of thought. Especially because he isn’t the only one at the hands of fate. Two of his closest friends sit in identical cells nearby. He wonders how they’ve been throughout all of this and hopes it’s better than himself.

But he thinks about everything- from the instant Kenma walked upon him practicing in the courtyard at night. He pointed out Kuroo’s magic with ease, and Kuroo thought nothing of it at the time. In hindsight, it should have been clear something was off. He should have been cautious about practicing his magic. Would Kenma have known who he was otherwise? Either way, his carelessness most likely contributed the situation playing out this way. The letter, and the fugitive, other pieces of the puzzle he thought he was able to complete. Turns out it was just the corner section of the grand piece. The whole puzzle was much bigger than he could have guessed.

Somewhere outside of his cell, Kuroo hears the click of a door opening, followed by guards whooping and hollering loudly. Clanking on the cells echo around the dungeon.

He tries not to let his blood crawl with fear.

* * *

Kenma takes a small bite of his breakfast. He has no appetite, yet he attempts to eat as to not receive a disproving stare or comment from his father. Every mouthful passing down unsettles his stomach further. Taking sips of water slushes the food around and nearly causes him to gag. He can only get through half of the meal before he has to push it away. Servants clear the food and he’s thankful.

His father continues to eat, intent on finishing his meal completely. He cuts into a fatty piece of meat and grease practically drips from the incision. Kenma’s stomach attempts to roll on itself again.

“You’ll be setting out shortly after the trial. I presume you are packed and ready to leave?” His father asks him, having swallowed his bite.

Kenma nods his head, unable to watch him chew. “Yes, Father.”

“Excellent. A carriage will be waiting for you at the east exit. Guards will escort you accordingly.”

He feels like he’s watching the scene from out of his body. “I understand,” he voices, but doesn't feel as though he did it consciously.

A servant enters the room, calling out an apologetic interruption. The man approaches his father hurriedly and bows down to whisper something into his ear. Kenma catches raise of his eyebrows, and almost coils at the alerted gaze flicked in his direction.

“I see,” his father murmurs. “I want searches of his frequent locations conducted. Start with the whorehouses.”

The servant nods. Kenma pushes his tongue against the back of his teeth. It’s how he forces himself not to question who he’s looking for, though he’s certain of the answer based off of his father's comment in the first place.

His father eyes him again once the servant has excused themselves from the room. “You have a new chapter ahead of yourself. An opportunity to learn from your mistakes, and be apart of something bigger than yourself,” he says. It should sound endearing, however Kenma takes it for what it truly is: a thinly veiled threat.

Kenma reflects on the words. “Thank you for giving me another chance.”

* * *

Asahi keeps his head down as he walks behind Prince Hinata. They’re at the bottom steps of the front entrance hall and he can already hear faint yelling outside. Four other guards trail behind them without a word, but their presence keeps Asahi tense. He wants to keep a hand on the hilt of Nishinoya’s sword, which he hasn’t used at all since receiving it. The swordsmith wasn’t too pleased to hear such an answer when he asked about it.

He could do it now. Asahi is bigger than all four of the guards and he can’t say he recognizes them well, so they’re probably new recruits. Nishinoya’s silver sword would cut through their armour like butter, and he could give Hinata an opportunity for some kind of an escape-

But, where would he go? It’s not like he could slip around a castle full of guards, even with a few minutes head start. Asahi would be hung for murdering four men, and ultimately, it wouldn’t do a damn thing to change the inventible.

Still, it’s easy to dwell on crazy, played out fantasies in his head. Anything to distract him from the current matter at hand.

The front doors of the castle open. Stretched out across the front courtyards and passed the gates, a large crowd of people gather in front, yelling obscenities.

“Where’s Oikawa?” Hinata asks him.

He checks their immediate surroundings. “I don’t know,” Asahi murmurs. He should be here.

One of the guards tells them to get moving. Asahi gives him a glare and escorts Prince Hinata into the carriage at the bottom of the stairs, still dreaming up the fantasy in his head.

* * *

The sound of his door opening grabs Nishinoya’s attention. Any other time, he’d bark out an insult at Tanaka’s intrusions. Today, he’s thankful for the distraction, throwing his pitiful attempt at a blade into the hot coals and dropping his hammer to the iron table with a clunk. He takes off his gloves, bunching them and pressing the heels of his hands into the corner of the table.

“You goin’ to the trial, Noya?” Tanaka asks, leaning into the doorframe.

Nishinoya shakes his head. Calling it a trial is generous. Everyone knows what the outcome will be. “I won’t watch innocent men get executed.”

Tanaka gives a sound of agreement. “I’m not going either.”

Nothing else is said between them. The silence only fuels Nishinoya’s doubt.

“What the fuck,” he whispers to himself.

Tanaka says nothing.

“Seriously, what the _fuck!?_ How did everything go so wrong so quick!?” He asks.

He hears Tanaka’s footsteps behind him, followed by a hand on his shoulder. It doesn’t calm him in the slightest. Nishinoya drops his gloves and turns around, walking away from Tanaka.

“Why wouldn’t those guards take orders from Hinata either!? Does that mean every one of them is a traitor?” He continues, pacing around the room.

Tanaka watches, not having the words to calm him down or give answers. He lets Nishinoya vent until he’s worn out. Nishinoya ends up beating the poorly crafted sword shaft into a disfigured piece of steel, screaming all the while.

“This isn’t right,” Nishinoya says between huffs. He hands are cramped from gripping his hammer so tight. “Are we supposed to go back to living normal now? Is that it?”

Tanaka gives him a sympathetic look.

* * *

“Tadashi!” His mother calls to him. He peers down from the rooftop of one of his neighbour's houses. His father volunteered him to help with some reconstruction this morning. He doesn’t mind it totally, but wants to finish the work as fast as he can. Yamaguchi has some things he needs to get done before returning to the castle. He still hasn't thought up much of a plan for getting back in without question.

She stands below, carrying a basket of fresh fruit. “Yes, ma?” Yamaguchi calls. He offered to get the food for her, but she’d been insistent on running her own errands.

“I stopped by an old friend’s place this morning. He said you could visit him today and he’d read the book for you. He's a teacher, so he knows his stuff.”

Yamaguchi fumbles with his hammer, nearly dropping it off of the side of the house. “Seriously?” He asks.

He mentioned the book to his parents offhandedly, saying he wants to find someone to help him read it. Of course, he didn’t reveal where or how he came across it, instead saying it was gifted to him by a friend at the castle. Neither of his parents know how to read, so he thought he could find someone else, but it’s turned out to be harder than he thought. It makes sense; his parents don't live in the best area. He’s asked almost everyone on their street and no one knows how to read or write.

His mother nods an impressed head to herself, giving him directions to the man's place as well as his name. “Oh, but you might want to get going shortly. I didn’t find out if he’s going to the trial later today. The streets are busy, so watch out for yourself!” She calls, walking to their front door.

“Thank you, Ma!” He calls to her. She blows him a kiss and steps inside the house. 

Yamaguchi gets to finishing the repairs, smiling to himself. He’ll be on his way soon enough.

Nervous excitement floods his senses.

* * *

Daichi staggers as a rock meets his cheek. The chains binding his hands and feet rattle with the movement. Someone on the edge of the street pushes him back into the center, not before spitting on him. It’s easy for all of the voices to blend into one, but some he picks out distinctively from the crowd.

“Filthy sell swords!”

“Tear their limbs off one by one!”

“Justice for the Late King and the Prince!”

Daichi falls in line with the other two ahead of him, tonguing the side of his cheek and wincing at the sharp pain. In front of him, Kuroo walks with his head held high. He hasn’t said an entire word since they were brought out of their cells. Nor given any sort of reaction to the heckling thrown his way, or the objects. He wishes he could reach out and comfort him, but the chains prevent him and he doesn’t know if Kuroo would react. He doesn’t when Daichi calls his name.

He scans the faces of the countless people they walk by. The majority of them are filled with hate and disgust. The odd person is cheering, yelling for their demise and preaching about evil.

Daichi tilts his head to the sky. A beautiful, cloudless and sunny day. The sun is warm on his face.

He bows his head, whispering a prayer his family, his friends and most importantly, Sugawara. Daichi has never been overly religious, but it feels necessary.

* * *

Iwaizumi surveys the small group of people atop the podium they are led towards. Once the crowd catches sight of them, deafening yelling echoes. The Central Square is completely packed- thousands of people standing around to gather for the trial. You can tell by the countless faces twisted in anger and fury; they have already come to a verdict. People have their fists in the air, while other point at them and scream obscenities.

He takes the first step up the podium. It’s easy to pick Hinata out of the small group of nobles; though he’s shorter than everyone, his bright hair draws one's attention immediately. He stares at Iwaizumi from his space in the middle of the podium unflinchingly, though he can sense shame in the Prince’s expression. Azumane stands next to him, stiff and lips pressed tight into a line.

Kenma and his father stand behind, tucked in the right corner of the podium. His father remains passive, head turned towards the crowd while Kenma observes his feet. Iwaizumi counts five guards on the podium, and over twenty standing in front of it, separating the crowd from the accused. Surrounding the perimeter of the central square, there are many others. He registers Oikawa is nowhere to be seen. The realization leads to a momentary confusion. Shouldn’t he be present with everyone else?

The three of them are brought to the edge of the podium, and swiftly kicked to their knees. _Some trial_ , Iwaizumi thinks, raising his head to the many faces in the crowd.

Time seems to draw itself out longer than normal. The yelling distorts into a shrill, droning in Iwaizumi’s ears. He blinks as sweat rolls past his eyebrow and into his vision. Silence overpowers the high-pitched reverberations abruptly and, in its wake, the sound of Iwaizumi’s heart pounding is what remains.

_Lub dub_

Somewhere in the crowd, a hooded figure sticks out to Iwaizumi. He is neither screaming nor staring at him with accusation.

_Lub dub_

No- he stands out because he knows the face, though it is partially hidden. Iwaizumi blinks to try and focus, but the man is gone like magic, lost in the crowd.

_Lub dub_

He thinks his mind is playing tricks. It couldn’t have been him.

* * *

Takeda-sensei peers up from the front page of the leather book to Yamaguchi, his face unreadable. "Yamaguchi... are you aware of who this journal belongs to?"

Ah, so it was a journal after all. He can't help noticing the unsettled nature in Takeda-sensei's voice.

"No, that's what I'm trying to figure out."

"I see," he pauses. "And where, er how did you come across this?"

"A friend of the Prince- he gave it to me," Yamaguchi lies on the spot. He squeaks it out and wants to tap a closed fist to his forehead for not sounding convincing.

"Ah," Takeda-sensei breathes. The doubt in his voice is apparent and yet, he flips a page, reading an excerpt out loud.

_“Year xxxx Month xx Day xx_

_I can only pray this book will never grace the light of day until I am long past. Leaving any trace of my doings poses a risk, and yet without this outlet, I do not know how I will keep myself composed. Can a man truly ever die with his secrets in tact? Maybe it's too good of a gift to be granted._

_It’s not as though I am doing myself any favours by keeping the painting either. I’m scared if I rid myself of it, I will begin to forget her face. I’ve lost her from the physical world; I refuse to lose her from my mind._

_Maybe one day if I am brave enough, I will gift it to my son._

_I miss you every day, my love.”_

“Ugh! I can barely see!” Kouji grumbles, standing on the balls of his feet in an attempt to view the podium over the crowd. The entire space is tight-packed, and they’re deep into the crowd.

Izumi waves a hand at him. “Shhh, it’s starting!” His friend hushes.

Kouji strains to hear a man’s voice bellowing at the crowd. He jumps up and for a moment and gets a fragment image of a middle-aged man in long, dark robes delivering a speech atop of the podium.

_"Year xxxx Month xx Day xx_

_I almost revealed the truth to my son today. We were in a heated argument and I lost my composure. I began yelling at him because of my inability to cope with my decisions. He’s just a child- how could he have been at fault? A boy who grows up without a mother has the right to ask about her._

_Does he have the right to know though? Or would telling him the truth plant a target on him for the ruthless hunters to prey upon?_

_I fear I know all to well from experience what is likely to happen._

_I want to give him the best life possible.”_

“Confess your crimes, and mercy may be granted!” Kouji hears the man on the podium yelling. He doesn’t hear the accused saying anything.

“What, they’re really going to try and deny it? They were caught with the Prince,” Izumi grits out. He’s got a few inches on Kouji and seems to have a good view of the scene in front of them, unlike Kouji, who is stuck behind several tall people.

“Switch places with me, I can’t see a thing!”

Izumi frowns at him. “No way.”

Kouji grumbles, jumping up again to get a quick view while the Lord lists off all of the crimes the men are being accused for.

_"Year xxxx Month xx Day xx_

_It appears my secret is no longer kept hidden. Though I believe I have done nothing wrong, I know the eyes of the world would not agree. And so, my secret has been used against me, as a way of carrying out vanity projects for the High Lords. It is disgraceful._

_What’s more, is I choose to accept this path.”_

“Prince Hinata, the only fitting punishment for such crimes is death!”

Such a bold statement riles the crowd up. Someone bumps Kouji and he winces as he’s shoved against Izumi. The Prince either says nothing or he’s really quiet. Kouji isn’t sure.

The main guy speaking grows impatient. “The verdict, Your Highness.”

The Prince’s voice rings out, loud and clear over the hushed crowd. “I will not deliver a verdict until I am certain who was responsible!”

Murmurs spike in the crowd. Someone yells an insult out at the mercenaries. Kouji furrows his eyebrows.

“That voice is familiar,” he says. He shuts his eyes, trying to match it to a face. It doesn’t make sense though- who would have a voice similar to the Prince?

Kouji jumps on Izumi’s back to get a better view.

_“Year xxxx Month xx Day xx_

_Paranoia takes my thoughts these days. Perhaps it’s justified, but it does nothing good for my mind. I have no desire to eat or sleep. How does one know when their sanity is slipping from their grasp? Do they ever actually come to such a conclusion? Or are they blissfully unaware of their delusions?_

_I wish to tell someone, yet I cannot think of anyone who wouldn’t betray me. Other than my son, but who am I to place such a burden on him? It’s not up to him to bear. I am the one who he depends on._

_Shouyou, my son._

_I love you, and I wish you could have known your mother for who she really was. She was more than a daughter of a blacksmith. She was brilliant, and cunning. Watching her fight left you wondering if you were witnessing battle, or an art. She bested me more times than I’d like to admit. She was kind, and caring. I see her in you every day._

_It pains me how this reads like a goodbye. However, I cannot deny it is fitting.”_

At first, Izumi lets out a protest the sudden pounce. Kouji slaps a hand over his mouth and stares at the Lord turned to the Prince. He wears a grim expression. “You know who is responsible. We have countless witnesses!” The man argues.

Hinata remains silent. Squinting because they are quite a way’s away, he notices something covering the Prince’s left eye. A patch?

The Lord turns towards the executioner standing next to the steps on the podium. His voice is inaudible, but his lips move. Kouji doesn’t hear him order, “Sever their heads.”

However, he gets a glimpse of the Prince physically reacting to his statement, his uncovered eye widening. The Prince shouts, demanding the man to stop. The executioner has covered his face and grabs his axe, ascending the steps of the platform. The Prince steps forward to try and intervene.

Kouji’s jaw drops as two guards on the podium draw their weapons on the Prince. The knight next to the Prince steps between them, drawing his sword in retaliation. They stand in a deadlock, neither party making a move.

Abruptly, Izumi drops him to the ground and Kouji winces at the sharp pain in his shoulder erupting from the impact. Looking up, he shuffles to rise, but pauses at the sight of a figure perched on the roof of one of the buildings surrounded the Square. He’s nestled in one of the watchtowers, almost hidden from sight. A bow is drawn in his hands and aimed at the podium.

Kouji misses the man in the black garb approaching the first target. Multiple guards are working to seize the restraining men, while the Prince is screaming out for them to stop.

He watches the arrow release; Hears the splitting impale of it meeting its target, followed by stiff, dead weight falling to the ground.

“Shit,” Kouji says, scrambling to his feet as the crowd grows restless in a matter of seconds. There's no way that could have been aimed at-

A scream comes somewhere to his right. Kouji doesn’t make anything out from his cramped space, locked in the crowd. Another from the left. Someone bumps him roughly again and Izumi reaches for his arm so they don't get separated.

Multiple screams overlap one another as a gruesome free-for-all breaks out.


	18. It's Time To Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know if this is worth mentioning, but there is the slightest of manga spoilers in this. It’s so small, you might not catch it, and it’s not pivotal to the plot or anything.
> 
> I love a good fat ending chapter, and this is over double the amount of words in an average one. So, if I can offer any advice before reading, it’s this: get comfy, grab a snack or drink, and enjoy ♡

Hinata barely has time to process the events unfolding. There is all too much happening at once to grasp, but he picks out a few details amongst the chaos. For instance, the arrow caught through the executioners’ neck. The multiple cloaked archers posted on top of the surrounding buildings in the Central Square. Hinata also notices Lord Kozume standing abruptly still atop of the podium, front and center with his head twisting every which way to observe the anarchy. It’s clear by his reaction, he is not responsible for the sudden ambush and was also not expecting it.

The crowd has already put a good thirty feet of distance away from the podium, frantic screaming and shoving of bodies retreating the scene. The row of guards in front of him are engaged with a group of unidentified men. Hinata watches one of them parry a guard's attack and retaliate with a jump strike of his lance. He’s shorter compared to the rest, but the power of his kickoff from the ground has him soaring with his lance, killing the guard instantly.

Close by, two men tag up on another guard, their movements synchronizing together as if they are one. Something is familiar about them. One of the men breaks their formation to spring forward, splitting a guard’s neck nearly clean with his halberd. Hinata recognizes his yell and is frustrated he can’t recall how he knows it.

Another arrow is fired at the podium, striking down one of the guards attempting to execute Kuroo with his own hands. Hinata watches him drop to his knees, and the dark mage trying to throw his body off.

One of the guards in front of Asahi goes for the offensive, slicing forward. The knight meets the attack head on, blocking the sword with his own. The other raises his blade at Asahi while he’s caught in a standstill and Hinata moves solely on instinct. He kicks up on the balls of his feet and springs around the group, drawing a knife from his belt. He slashes forward and the guard shuffles away to avoid the knife’s path.

“Hinata!” Asahi says, grunting and parrying the guard’s attack. “Stay back!” He commands.

The Prince dodges the sword thrust at him, rounding behind Asahi as told. Asahi finally gets a clean counter on the guard and trips the other, pointing his sword down at the man who raises his arms in surrender.

Hinata feels something tug his sleeve. He blinks awe-struck at Kenma, who grips his arm and wears a mixture of emotions: Relief, panic, guilt. It’s another one of those rare moments Kenma reveals what’s beneath the surface and it’s caught Hinata’s attention without a single word spoken.

Footsteps barrel up the podium. Lord Kozume stumbles backwards to avoid the new intruders, losing his balance and falling off of the podium. Hinata turns around, sees a few faces among the hooded men heading for the mercenaries and thinks, _oh, this is what a miracle looks like_.

Kenma’s voice draws his attention. “You need to get to safety,” he urges.

“He’s right!” Asahi grunts out. 

Hinata has many questions: Was this Kenma's doing? Who are all of these people in front of the podium, fighting the guards? How did he manage to arrange this contingency plan? Where are they going to go now?

Can he trust him?

Instead, he studies Kenma's expression a second longer. He decides, _yes,_ _I have to,_ laces his fingers with Kenma's and jumps off of the podium.

* * *

Atsumu yells as he swings his halberd, slicing through the guard’s armour and sending him down in one brutal strike. Footsteps behind alert his senses, and he turns around to meet the lance thrust at him. A few quick parries and he has him going down, but the guard attempts to reach for his fallen weapon. A flash-flight of an arrow whizzes over Atsumu’s shoulder, taking him out. His eyes widen in surprise and he turns towards to rooftop. He might not have a good view of him 'cause of the robes, but he knows those nasty shots like nobody’s business.

“Omi! Watch where yer shootin’ those-“ he ducks down to avoid another shot, not finishing the sentence. The arrow pierces through something behind him with a crack and Atsumu begrudgingly glances behind him. A guard has his sword raised at him. Had an arrow not been lodged through his eye and out the back of his skull, he would’ve had the blade through Atsumu’s chest.

Atsumu turns his head up at the roof of the building Sakusa is posted on with a grim expression. The sniper shakes his head and aims another arrow elsewhere. From his position on the ground, Atsumu can tell Sakusa is muttering something to himself that would most definitely piss Atsumu off.

“Yer lucky someone cares enough to watch over you,” Osamu grunts as he parries a blow and stabs the guard in the chest.

“Yea, ‘cause we're not gonna,” Suna adds, ripping his lance free of another’s abdomen.

“Can we not do this right now!?” Atsumu yells in frustration, dodging another oncoming blow and swinging his halberd in retaliation.

* * *

Kenma leads Shouyou hurriedly. The south, east and west exits are flooded with people attempting to escape amongst the fighting. There’s no way they’ll be able to get by without being spotted and targeted. The northern exits are relatively clear, save for a small group of men engaged with guards.

Asahi suggests the route to the north. Partway though, they are confronted by a pair of guards. Asahi takes down the first one with ease, but the second keeps him occupied. Asahi yells for the two of them to go on without him. Shouyou is reluctant, but Kenma takes it as their best option, careful to keep watch for any other guards who try to stop them. Reaching a northern exit, Kenma halts abruptly. Shouyou bumps him and practically topples the two of them over, uttering a confused sound.

In front of them, four guards advance forward, their weapons drawn.

Kenma’s grip on Shouyou grows. He turns around and startles at the sight of a huge man towering over them, holding a sword in one hand and an axe in his other. He wears a cloak, revealing only a serious face and intimidating eyes.

“Allow me,” the man offers, stepping around them and facing the guards calmly. His voice is low and steady. Kenma stares with a bewildered appreciation. Something awe-struck strikes Shouyou, like he’s ready to have an excited outburst.

He pulls Shouyou away to prevent giving him the chance. Caught in the middle of the chaos, he scans over the Central Square, trying to find a spot for them to retreat. In doing so, Kenma also spots the outline of his father retreating up the tall steps of the grand theatre.

* * *

“Reinforcements!” Hoshiumi alerts with a loud cry.

Atsumu grunts out a frustrated sound, taking out the last of the guards in the surrounding area. “Didn’t take long,” he mutters, searching for the newcomers. Ah, a flock by the south entrance. And the east. It is a lot for them to deal with. He's already seen a few of their own go down too. 

“Oh well, at least I got to have some fun,” Atsumu mumbles to himself, then hollers up at the rooftop. “Ya ready, Omi!?”

“Shut up and do it!” He hears in return.

Atsumu bares his teeth in a wicked smile, lowering his halberd and reaching into his pockets. Producing a grey, circular object, he presses it to his lips and hurls it into the air. Sakusa lets an arrow fly and it pierces the ball, releasing an explosion of smoke upon impact. He can hear other blasts going off nearby, already running towards an exit point.

What an exciting day this turned out to be.

* * *

“There’s our queue!” Bokuto shouts to the group as the smoke bombs flood the Central Square. “We gotta clear out!”

Kuroo’s absence from the group only goes noticed at the rendezvous point.

* * *

The smoke throws an added layer of uncertainty into the riot. It’s spread like wildfire within seconds, clouding everything more than a couple feet in front of your line of vision. Kenma grips Shouyou’s hand tight, doing his best to listen for anybody. He has no idea where Asahi is, and doesn’t plan on drawing attention their way with unnecessary yelling.

Kenma gasps, nearly running full force into a small group of guards. He pulls Shouyou abruptly to the right, anywhere they can get away. The men start yelling in their pursuit, demanding the two to stop. It allows Kenma to keep a faint idea of how close they are while he attempts to weave them in scattered patterns to lose their trail. Eventually, their voices grow quiet over the echoing screaming and clashing of weapons. He’s lost them, he thinks. A mini win.

Kenma’s foot snags something and he almost tumbles onto the dead body of a guard, had Shouyou not jerked him backwards with fast reflexes. Kenma stays still, fixated on the gruesome scene at his feet until Shouyou calls his name.

They manage to find the side of a building. He pulls Shouyou along it, his other hand pressing to the wall for guidance. They find a small alley between two buildings and slip into the narrow space. Kenma turns to Shouyou while they have a small blanket of cover. Nearby, the sound of metal clanging echoes. He hopes it’s not as close as he thinks.

“I hope one day you can forgive me,” he says, releasing the Prince’s hand and stepping back. There isn't time for explanations, though he wishes he could tell Shouyou everything while they’re tucked in this small space between two buildings to hide from the smoke-filled battlefield. 

_You had infinite time to explain, and yet you never chose to,_ his conscience reminds.

He lifts a hand to Shouyou, whispering a spell.

Realization hits the Prince. “Kenma-“ he tries to stop him, reaching for Kenma’s hand.

Before he touches his wrist, a white glow envelopes Shouyou and it fades seconds later, leaving him gone without a trace.

“I’m going to make it right, Shouyou,” he murmurs.

Kenma peers outside of the small space and breaks out into the smoke-filled maze again.

* * *

Akaashi lowers his bow, unable to distinguish any remaining guards. The smoke is still heavily concentrated throughout most of the Central Square, but it appears the fighters have all made their escape in impeccable timing. He is amazed with how well the entire ambush has played out. Everything has gone exactly as planned.

With the thought in mind, Akaashi decides he should start retreating as well. A sudden thud comes from behind, causing Akaashi to whip around and reach for an arrow. Sitting on the ground as bewildered as Akaashi feels, the Prince gazes up at him wordlessly. Since their last interaction, he has acquired an eye patch.

How did he-?

It does not matter right now, he supposes. Time is a luxury and he has little to spare on explanations. He has been inadvertently assigned a new task: keep the Prince safe.

Akaashi slings his bow over his shoulder, extending a hand to help the Prince to his feet.

“Are you hurt, Your Highness?” He asks, already giving him a scan over. Aside from the patch, he appears okay.

“No,” he stutters out.

Akaashi empathizes with him. How could you react unflinchingly to such an intervention? He removes his cloak and wraps it around the Prince.

“Pardon my informality, but we cannot have you spotted,” he says, tying the cloak and lifting the hood to tuck his hair beneath. The Prince says nothing to him. Simply stares, with one fearful, wide eye.

Akaashi takes a small inhale, settling a hand on the Prince’s shoulder. “We are going to meet up with everyone at the designated location. I realize you are frightened, but we must go. Follow me, Your Highness and stay alert.”

Hinata nods wordlessly, descending the stairs of the watchtower behind him.

* * *

Inside the grand theatre and past the front foyer, the stage is dimly lit from the few carved out windows towards the ceiling. The building is huge on the inside, filled with rows and rows of viewing benches. At the far end of the room, the empty stage sits in the center. Along the perimeter of the room, columns of viewing balconies stack high to the ceiling.

Kenma has only been in the building a few times. He usually enjoys the shows put on, but sharing a room filled with countless other people makes it an uncomfortable experience. Standing in it empty now, it feels like a completely different space.

His father’s voice echoes from the front of the room. “What have you done?” The man hisses at him.

There’s no use trying to deny this was not his doing. He’s well aware his father would not believe a single thing to come out of his mouth, judging by the tone of his voice. Kenma walks down one of the side aisles, to try and spot him on one of the benches.

“You answer when I speak to you boy!” His father lashes out, and suddenly a spiral of light magic fires towards him. Kenma deflects the attack, rerouting the magic to the side. It crashes into a pillar supporting the lower balcony, fracturing a chunk out of it. In the front row, he spots his father standing from a bench in the center. He’s giving Kenma the expression- the one of pure evil that scared him years ago, and still does to this day.

Despite this, he speaks up. “You are a disgrace to the Royal Family,” Kenma comments. No anger, or shaking fear in his voice; Plain as a description of the weather. He’s getting closer to his father. “You and all the others responsible. It should have been you on your knees, confessing to your crimes.”

His father loses his composure, screaming and launching a bolt of lightning at him. Kenma ducks behind the benches. Another shot rings out, striking a different pillar. He crawls into one of the aisles, worried the balcony might cave in if repeatedly attacked. He hears several other spells discharging and rupturing the interior of the building. His father is switching between light and lightning spells.

“I gift you a second opportunity and this is how you repay me? It seems you will never learn,” his father boasts into the room. His voice echoes and Kenma curls his toes.

Crawling about halfway through an aisle, Kenma peeks up over a bench. His father faces away from him, his hand raised and ready to cast another spell. Kenma starts whispering his own, gathering magic. As it leaves his hand, his father turns and spots him. A whip of light magic shoots forward, wrapping around his father’s wrist. Kenma cracks his hand and the whip launches forward, throwing his father onto the stage. He hits the ground hard, rolling and grunting from the impact.

His father staggers to rise and Kenma exits into the middle aisle, approaching the stage. His father thrusts his arms out in front of him and Kenma dives into the benches to avoid the crashing light spell.

“You can’t keep hiding! It’s all you’ve ever done your whole life, isn’t it!?” His father preaches.

He crawls further away. An abrupt crashing comes from somewhere. He glances behind himself and the flash of a light spell destroys a patch of the benches not far from him.

Kenma keeps moving. A blinding flash erupts in front of him and he drops fully to the ground, covering his head.

“I'll tolerate it no longer, Kenma. I’ll have no son before I have a coward!”

He grits his teeth, burying his head under his arms. Crashing and splitting of benches flood his ears. For a moment, he’s able to tune it all out; the sounds of the grand theatre being destroyed, the explosive, fearful beating of his heart, and the guilt inside of him, believing every word his father has said. Something else overpowers the feeling. Something courageous, deep in his chest. 

Kenma looks up, and crawls forward, until he can run out into the side aisle again. He breaks into a sprint towards the front of the room, his footsteps capturing his father’s attention. A succession of light spells come his way, and the final one cracks a devastating blow into one of the pillars supporting the balcony. The whole unit caves in and Kenma jumps out of the way to avoid the crumbling fixture.

Kenma raises quickly, bounding up the steps to the stage. His father’s head jerks to him, madness in his very being. A bolt of lightning is aimed at Kenma. At such close range, it whizzes by his head and he feels sparks cracking by his ear. Kenma retaliates with a ring of light forming under his father’s feet. The man leaps out of the way as the magic springs upwards.

His father unleashes continuous spells, mixing between thunder and light magic. It’s only logical that Kenma is unable to avoid them all, his energy from the warp spell earlier already leaving his stamina depleted. One of the light spells knocks his feet from under him, sending Kenma to the ground and leaving him winded. He attempts to rise, but tendrils of light magic wrap around his hands and feet to restrain him. Kenma hisses out a cry of pain as the magic burns his skin. The leather of his boots starts to melt, hot flashes of pain coiling around his feet.

His body is pulled into the air by the magic tendrils. The pain is so shocking it flares black speckles in the corners of his vision. He feels his flesh burning and Kenma screams, coarse and filled with terror. He tries to struggle free, but it only heightens the agony. He cries out loudly, unaware of his father’s hand raised up, and the faint glow of magic radiating from it.

“You always were too weak to unleash true power,” his father mutters.

Kenma finally raises his head, bleary eyed and half-conscious, watching the light magic glow brighter.

He thinks, _I’m going to die the same way I killed that guard._

The flash of light magic discharges.

* * *

His barrier forms in front of Kenma, only to be destroyed by the blast of magic. Kuroo works fast, summoning and launching three magic knives towards Lord Kozume. The man turns to the source of the attack, dodging the swift blades. They strike into the wall behind and Lord Kozume retaliates with a lighting bolt. Kuroo ducks under rubble to avoid its range. The magic crashes somewhere and he dashes towards the stage, firing a rod of dark magic. In order to avoid it, the Lord leaps further away from Kenma at the edge of the stage.

“You think you stand a chance against me with such peasant magic?” The man accuses him.

Kuroo summons a javelin, hurling it his way in response. The Lord jumps off of the stage to avoid the attack. Finally having his concentration broken, the tendrils holding Kenma dispel. Kuroo watches Kenma fall to the stage with a thud and a cry of pain, but his attention is focused on the bolt of lightning sent his way. Kuroo dodges it easily with a rotation of his chest, still pursuing forward. The follow-up spell is blocked with a quick shield summoned in front of him. The light magic pierces through and grazes his bicep. It only touches him a second, but the magic sears through his clothing and burns his skin. His adrenaline is peaked, and so the pain is nothing heavier than a warm sting on his arm.

“I always dreamt about killing the man in charge,” Kuroo says, summoning two solid black masses above his palm. They transform into two knives and he grabs both by the hilt.

Lord Kozume says nothing, his hands raised defensively. There’s about gap of about fifty feet between them. Kuroo springs forward, avoiding the consecutive lighting bolt aimed at him.

The gap grows smaller with each stride. Then, a spiral of light magic comes. Kuroo takes a hit to his left shoulder; a forceful blow causing him to stumble. The impact is much greater than the first attack, his face scrunched in pain from the searing sensation. It’s like being burned by something hotter than fire.

Lord Kozume attempts to strike him as he draws close, unable to summon another spell with Kuroo closing in to attack. The dark mage evades his punch with ease, determining he is not a combative fighter. Kuroo rounds him and plunges one of the knives into Lord Kozume’s calf. The man howls out a cry.

Kuroo circles him, glowering at the struggling man. “You were always a made-up figure in my head. I used to picture what the horrid man in charge would look like.”

Lord Kozume turns to him abruptly, casting another spell. Kuroo doesn’t have to move out of the way of to avoid it. The man’s aim is growing sloppy.

Kuroo grabs his outstretched arm by the wrist, and shoves the second knife through his forearm. Another fierce cry of pain. Kuroo lets go, and the man drops to his knees. The knives fizzle away, and his blood spills freely from the gashes.

“Now I see you and think, ‘that’s it?’” He asks with a shrug.

“You insolent-” the Lord starts, and he stops as Kuroo kneels it front of him, just as the man did to him days ago in front of the fort.

“I was going to try an escape when I was twelve. Had a plan, some stolen food and water tucked away. Extra clothing, and a few weapons.”

He watches the sneer curling, yet the man remains silent. Perhaps it’s because Kuroo has summoned another two knives and twirls one of them.

“Surprisingly enough, a different kid beat me to it first. You remember him?”

Judging from the grim reluctance on his face, he does not. “Huh, yea I probably should have known. You probably lost track of how many kids you tortured. But he wasn’t so lucky. I saw what happened to him after he was caught, and it gave me nightmares for years.”

A gruesome, twisted expression takes Lord Kozume’s features. "You taught me a lesson the day you defected. I vowed to ensure no other student would lose their path like you. Now, I'm going to teach you a lesson for throwing away your opportunity."

He unleashes a powerful shock wave, taking Kuroo off guard and striking him down. The knives in his hand clatter to the ground, disappearing. He hears a few benches in the front rows crashing to the ground from the impact.

To his credit, Lord Kozume rises on shaking legs. Kuroo sits up, his muscles spasming from the current travelling in his body. He rises in a likeful manner, his legs unsteady. “I read your profile over and over after you defected. You were one of the most powerful mages the Institute had ever trained. Because of me, you’ve been able to harness your talent. You should be on your knees, _thanking me._ The things I’ve done, the achievements I’ve reached-“

“They mean nothing!” Kuroo fires back, taking a step forward. The numbness is leaving his limbs. “Because you preyed off the innocent to get what you wanted! Do you feel the slightest of remorse for all the pain you've caused!?”

“Nothing?” The man repeats, like he’s been rendered dumbstruck. “Nothing!?” This time, with great anger.

It’s no use. Kuroo raises both of his arms in front of him. Dark magic pools in clouds around their feet. Lord Kozume gawks at the approaching magic, attempting to shuffle away in a pitiful limp.

He curls his fists in tight. The magic vanishes, only to reappear as black spikes, surrounding every inch of Lord Kozume. The same spell he used to destroy the pirate’s ship, on a smaller scale. One flick of his wrist and the man’s skin would be struck through by the spikes. He’d be disfigured, completely unrecognizable from the sheer amount of force of the attack. Lord Kozume shields his arms over his head, releasing murmured prayers to himself.

“Nothing,” Kuroo repeats. “You are nothing.”

His fists loosen. A single shard drops onto Lord Kozume’s head, causing him to turn it upwards in confusion. Other spikes begin falling, bouncing off his clothes and tumbling to the ground with clinking sounds. Only two of them remain floating directly in front of Lord Kozume. He watches Kuroo with uncertainty.

“Death would be an easy punishment. You don’t deserve such a pleasure,” he says, flicking his wrist. The two shards launch through his feet, effectively pinning him to the ground. He releases another shrill of pain.

Towards the stage, Kenma remains a heap lying on his side. Kuroo rushes up the stairs and kneels in front of him. His eyes are half open, staring helplessly at Kuroo. At first, he isn’t sure if he’s all there, struggling to stay conscious. His hands and feet are blistered and disfigured from the light magic.

“Shit,” he whispers.

“Kuroo,” Kenma says, his voice weak. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop,” Kuroo bites out harsher than intended. He amends himself right away, only a fraction calmer. “You can apologize later, once you’re healed.”

The sound of footsteps approaching from the entrance grab Kuroo’s attention abruptly.

* * *

Daichi has his arms full of Sugawara and the man’s head tucked into his neck.

“Every time I think I can’t get more scared, you guys go and prove me wrong,” Sugawara murmurs. They’re standing in the corner of an empty seamstress shop. Daichi hasn’t bothered asking who owns it or why they chose this spot of all places to hideout temporarily. He’s still in a sort of shock, attempting to come down from the chaos. Having his lover’s arms enveloped around him does a good job of helping though.

“’M sorry,” Daichi replies, running a hand through Sugawara’s hair. He needs a bath so bad, but Daichi himself is probably in much worse shape. Sugawara has healed his face thankfully, taking away the throbbing in his cheek. “We didn’t expect things to turn out like this.”

“We never do,” Sugawara echoes. His lips tickle Daichi’s neck as he talks. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

Daichi presses his cheek to Sugawara’s head. Across the room, he catches Oikawa observing them. Daichi closes his eyes, too exhausted to care and sighing into the embrace.

“I missed you Suga,” he says.

He hears Sugawara sniffling while he returns the sentiment and poorly holds back his own tears.

* * *

Steady knocking comes from the outside the shop's door. Bokuto waves down the chatter in the room and answers. Simultaneously, Kageyama and Iwaizumi grab for weapons. The knight eases the door open a few inches and releases a much too loud noise of relief to be anything other than a good visitor. Oikawa sighs something exasperated, but says nothing as Bokuto ushers the two newcomers inside.

Appreciation floods the room at the sight of Akaashi and Hinata stepping inside. The others come forward to express their relief.

“Any sign of Kenma, Asahi or Kuroo?” Oikawa questions them. 

Hinata shakes his head, leaning his hands onto his thighs for support. “Kenma and I got separated from Asahi. Then the smoke bombs went off and Kenma used a warp spell on me. I don't know where he went.”

“I lost sight of everyone when the smoke bombs were triggered,” Akaashi adds.

“It’s not as if any of them would know where to meet us,” Oikawa murmurs. He misses the dumbfounded look on Hinata's face.

“We should go search for them,” Sugawara insists. “It’s not safe out there.”

“No, it’s not, but they’re not helpless. They’ve probably found spots to lay low for the time being,” Daichi says.

“It would be risky for us to go outside right now with things still crazy,” Iwaizumi adds. “Someone might spot us.”

“We can’t leave them hanging!” Hinata argues.

Oikawa has a hand to his mouth. “If things settle down towards the evening, we can send a few out to search.”

They murmur in agreement. Hinata is reluctant, biting hard on his bottom lip. “Oikawa?”

* * *

Tsukishima steps into the building, having heard the explosive commotion from outside. He’s almost positive he saw Kenma running up the steps earlier. Next to him, Hinata’s right-hand knight, who somehow managed to lose him (though he hasn’t made any such comments, he’d save those later to share with Yamaguchi) trails behind. The knight unexpectedly came to his aid when a trio of guards had him surrounded earlier, Tsukishima recognizing him instantly.

When asked why he helped a stranger, Asahi explained in a sort of flustered manner that he had a feeling he knew him through a mutual friend. Tsukishima lifted an eyebrow, but revealed he was tailing Kenma at the theatre. Asahi turned to face the building and a crash from within startled him. The knight asked Tsukishima if he saw Prince Hinata with Kenma. Tsukishima shook his head, yet Asahi ended up tagging alongside him.

Passed the foyer, Tsukishima stops in his tracks at the sight. The theatre room is destroyed. One of the lower balconies has crashed to the ground, crushed pillars and other debris forming a large pile below where it was. Over half of the benches on the main floor are destroyed. Some are charred, others split open and crumbled down to rubble.

At the front of the room where the stage is, a man with dark, spiky hair stands front and center, facing Tsukishima with his arms crossed. Behind him, Kenma lays on his side. Tsukishima can’t tell if he’s conscious or not.

“Kuroo?” Asahi says cautiously next to him. Tsukishima moves forward first.

“Who’s there?” The man, presumably Kuroo, asks them. 

Asahi beats him to it, yelling from behind. “What did you do to Kenma!?” He yells.

And Kuroo is physically caught off by the accusation, taking half a step backwards. “What?”

Asahi stalks closer and draws his sword with a stinging sound. “How could you blame him for all of this!?” The knight cries out.

Kuroo glowers. “ _I_ didn’t do this. Take it up with him,” the man pauses, pointing to a space in front of the stage. Approaching it, Tsukishima comes across a restrained and heavily injured Lord Kozume. Asahi’s demeanor shifts from anger to mild panic as he takes in the Lord next.

“Tsukishima,” Kenma says, voice so quiet and breathless he could have missed it.

He turns to the sound. Kenma has rolled himself over and though he’s a distance away, Tsukishima takes in the crude blistering across his hands and feet.

“I’ll triple our agreed upon payment if you get us somewhere to lay low.”

Tsukishima nods. “I know a place.”

* * *

"This was all you, wasn’t it?"

Oikawa huffs something smug, placing his hands on his hips. "Took you long enough, Chibi-chan."

“I don’t understand- who were all of those other fighters?” Hinata asks. "I saw Ushijima, I think. It happened so quick; I wasn't sure."

“What, you didn’t recognize any of the others?” Oikawa pesters.

Hinata frowns. “Their identities were covered, how was I supposed to-“

But he _did_ recognize them. Not because of their appearances, rather the way they fought. He's seen it many times, in the rings-

“There you go,” Oikawa grins, poking him on the forehead.

“The tournament fighters! But, how did they- and you!” He tries, unable to connect thoughts to coherent sentences. Hinata takes a breath. “You didn’t meet us outside the castle, so I thought maybe you went on ahead to the trial, but you weren't there. I started to think you fled, or maybe you got hurt,” Hinata admits, his throat tight. “Y’know.”

Oikawa waves a hand. “Come on, Chibi-chan. You’d be lost without me,” he gloats. “All I had to do was dangle a bit of gold under those brute’s noses and they were on board. A lot of them were pleased with having the chance to fight guards," Oikawa pauses with a slight frown. "And running into the North group happened to be plain, dumb luck. I sent a few men to Kenna's meetup point and thankfully, they were still posted at the location. Obviously, they were on board when I filled them in.”

Hinata swallows a dry lump. "You planned this all out, last minute on your own?"

All of the smugness in his advisor’s demeanor disappears as he looks down at Hinata.

“Hey! Stop that, would you?” Oikawa asks, an annoyed concern heavy in his tone.

Hinata's lip starts to quiver. “You made a miracle happen,” he breathes out.

Oikawa sighs, his gaze flicking across the room. He pats Hinata’s shoulder, then ends up bringing him into a hug. “What kind of advisor would I be if I didn't fight for you till the end? But, if you want to get all sappy, go sit with your bounty boy. I’m sure he would enjoy-” Oikawa’s pauses, his arms pulling him tighter. “You know? Never mind, you’re right. I was a real hero, wasn’t I?” He says louder.

He’s not sure why Oikawa is acting funny all of a sudden. “You were so cool!” Hinata muffles into his shoulder, agreeing nonetheless.

“Yes, yes, sing my praises,” his advisor chimes, patting his head and swaying them slightly.

“Oi, this shop isn’t big enough for a head like yours,” Iwaizumi comments across the room.

Oikawa’s arms drop from Hinata and he watches his advisor turn towards Iwaizumi. “You’re the one with the big forehead, Iwa-chan,” he retorts sweetly, pressing his palm to his own and sticking out his tongue.

Across the room, Sugawara slaps a hand over his mouth. Hinata glances over at the sound and detects Kageyama’s gaze in his peripheral. They make eye contact and Hinata flinches. Kageyama is all but scowling at him.

“See? I’m not the only one who thinks so,” Oikawa continues, stepping towards Iwaizumi and gesturing to the healer. Sugawara raises his arms up to form an x, fiercely denying such an accusation amidst a poorly stifled giggle. The others observe the bickering between Iwaizumi and Oikawa with mild amusement. It’s a good distraction.

Kageyama stalks towards Hinata. He purses his lips, trying to not be intimidated. But with the man practically leering above him, it’s a bit of a challenge.

Kageyama lifts a hand and Hinata scrunches his face up, waiting for something, but not a gentle finger tapping the strap of his patch, on his temple.

“What happened?” He asks. It sounds slightly interrogative, but sincere.

“Oh,” Hinata breathes out. Tension leaves his shoulders. “Someone tried to kill me.”

“What?” Kageyama snips. The shock wears off quick and he scowls, resuming to towering scarily. “And you let him do this to you? We worked on your agility during training,” he hisses.

“It happened only days later! I didn’t have long to practice what I learned,” Hinata argues. “Plus…”

Kageyama grunts at his silence, a terrible attempt at encouraging him to continue. Lowering his head to his feet, Hinata explains. “Plus, it happened fast and I was weaponless. I got scared and it threw me off.”

He hears an exhale and peeks up. Kageyama’s frown has pressed into something closer to a neutral line. “We’ll train until it becomes instinct then.”

“Really?” Hinata asks, balling his fists.

Kageyama nods his head, an enthusiastic glint in his eyes. “Really.”

***

Banging comes to the door. Bokuto checks it out again, remaining quiet towards the party on the other side. Hinata watches some of the others sharing guarded looks, as if they’re getting ready for something bad to unfold. However, the suspicion dies quick with Bokuto opening the door and revealing the others. Hinata immediately springs towards Asahi, who carries an unresponsive Kenma. The next thing he catches is the scorch marks across his hands and feet. Hinata lets out a strangled sound at the sight.

“What happened!?” He cries out.

Kuroo nods his head over his shoulder. A really tall, blond man Hinata doesn’t know stands behind him, holding a bound and injured Lord Kozume over his shoulder. He manages a couple blinks at best and the tall man gives him a slight nod in greeting.

Sugawara has come forward as well to observe Kenma and tells Daichi to clear away one of the worktables. “Lay him down here,” he instructs Asahi.

* * *

“This is dumb, I’m obviously the best pick.”

“Shut it, Traskykawa. You’re walking all gimpy.”

“And you’re a wanted criminal according to the entire city!”

“Neither of you are going,” Sugawara interrupts. He moves to Kuroo and Daichi next. “And neither are you two, so don’t even think about it.”

Daichi and Kuroo consider his words, but neither protest. Sugawara turns to survey the others. Kenma lays in a makeshift bed of fabrics atop a table, sleeping with Hinata sitting next to him. He's done all he can to treat his wounds, but Sugawara is sure scarring is inevitable. “We can’t send Prince Hinata, and _definitely_ not sending Tobio.”

“Tobio?” Oikawa repeats curiously. A fierce smirk splits his mouth. “Now that is _too cute_ ,” the teasing in his tone ever present.

Kageyama scowls, while Sugawara grins. “Isn’t it?” He asks, then continues observing the others. “Azumane and Bokuto were spotted fighting off other guards, so they’re likely being watched out for too. Especially Azumane.”

“Why me?” Asahi stutters out, a little panicked.

Sugawara places his hands on his hips. “You interfered with those guards who tried to attack Hinata in front of everyone. I’m not saying it was the wrong thing to do, but all the guards who escaped would know your face.”

He breathes out, surveying the last viable options. “So, it leaves Akaashi, Tsukishima and myself.”

“None of you would be granted access into the castle,” Oikawa immediately points out.

“Um,” Tsukishima speaks up. “I may have a way around that.”

Sugawara watches him approach his belongings, and raises his eyebrows at the silver armour he produces from his pack.

Oikawa still isn’t completely satisfied, crossing his arms. “I’m going to overlook why a random civilian has a guard’s uniform, and instead ask: so what? Are you going to explore the castle with two other strangers until you find someone who can help you?”

Tsukishima shakes his head. “We go directly to the Captain of the Royal Guard, Sir Ojiro. He’s likely in the guard’s wing, and in charge of the one’s searching the city. We chat with him enough to determine if he’s serving Lord Kozume or not. A few questions should give us all we need to know.”

This explanation renders Oikawa silent a beat or two. “Just who are you, exactly?” Oikawa asks him lowly.

Tsukishima gives a half shrug. “A contract worker under Kenma's pay.”

“What happens if the Captain works for him?” Hinata asks, pointing to Lord Kozume. Sugawara has tended to the serious injuries, enough to prevent him from dying of blood loss or infection. The Lord stayed restrained all the while and Sugawara subdued him with a sleep spell to keep him from giving them trouble.

“You really think he is, Your Highness?” Bokuto asks sadly. Hinata shrugs.

“I hope not,” Oikawa pinches the bridge of his nose. “But we have to consider it.”

Tsukishima crosses his arms. “There’s three of us and one of him. We can handle ourselves.”

“Sugawara isn’t a fighter,” Daichi critiques. He receives a glare for his effort, but Daichi shakes his head firm.

“He’s also the Captain,” Bokuto emphasizes. “He could take all three of you at once. No offense, but the Captain ain’t no joke!”

“If he is suspicious, it would be in our best interest to leave the castle and plan a different course of action,” Akaashi amends. “Avoiding a violent confrontation altogether is vital and I think if executed properly, it can be done.”

* * *

Sugawara is surprised at how easy it is getting passed the front gates of the castle. As soon as Tsukishima reveals the reason for their visit to the guards, they are granted access without question. He leads them into the castle, walking towards a corridor on the first floor.

“The guard’s wing is this way. I don’t imagine there will be many around, so finding the Captain should be easy.”

Sugawara accepts the ease the words bring, until Tsukishima opens the door to the briefing room and they are met with a group of at least fifty Royal Guards. Each one of them turn to observe the sudden entry.

Well, seems like any kind of violent confrontation is off the table.

Tsukishima bows his head, quick to improvise. “I apologize for the interruption.”

Akaashi bows too so Sugawara hurriedly follows. His heart is already hammering nervously and he wants to shake out his hands to get some circulation in them.

A man at the head of the room steps forward, addressing them. “Ah, I don’t recognize you. You must be from the new platoon.”

“Yes Captain,” Tsukishima nods his head. “These two have reported information pertinent to Prince Hinata,” he briefs, gesturing to Sugawara and Akaashi.

The Captain nods. “I’d be very interested to hear it,” he says. He turns to the other men, dismissing them from the room. The authoritative nature comes out evident in his voice. Sugawara didn’t realize how intimidated he would feel simply being in the room with the Captain of the Royal Guard. He’s not used to dealing with people of authority.

The last of the guards clear out and the Captain closes the door, he smiles warmly. Ojiro walks to the front of the room, where he stood as they barged in. He folds his arms behind him, standing tall and proud. Sugawara sends a sly squint to Tsukishima. Bet he’s rethinking we’d have the upper hand on him with numbers. Tsukishima catches his stare and frowns.

“Let’s have a seat.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Akaashi replies politely, walking to the front benches and introducing themselves.

Sugawara gathers of the three of them, he’s the most comfortable with small talk. He hasn’t known Tsukishima very long, but enough to confirm he’s got a quiet nature. And so, he decides to try and take control of the conversation first.

“Today was so scary,” Sugawara says, voice tentative as he trails forward to sit next to Akaashi. “I was up close in the crowd and saw everything.”

“It must have been. Unfortunately, I was not stationed at the Central Square today so I only received word of what happened from some of the guards who were there during the assault,” the Captain explains.

“Oh, it was a nightmare,” Sugawara waves a hand in front of himself. “As soon as I saw the guards pulling weapons on the Prince I was seriously _freaking out_.”

Captain Ojiro’s eyebrows draw down. “I was not made aware of such details,” he comments.

He can feel Tsukishima giving him a look that says _keep going with this,_ so Sugawara shakes his head. “Oh, it was terrible. I still don’t understand why they would do such a thing.”

“It is…odd,” Captain Ojiro echoes.

 _He’s not budging_ , Sugawara thinks frustratedly to himself. He’ll have to keep pressing. “Yes, the Prince was calling out for them to stop, but the guards wouldn’t obey. Why wouldn’t they listen to him? I mean, they are sworn to serve him, aren’t they?”

Ojiro shakes his head. “I’m afraid I can only wonder the same thing. It is troubling such an act occurred, so you say.”

He’s caught off guard by the insinuation at the end. Akaashi seems to grasp it too. “I saw it as well, Captain. I am certain if you were able to gather other witnesses, they can confirm it.”

“Perhaps it’s something worth investigating,” Ojiro says. Sugawara considers the quick glance the Captain spares in Tsukishima’s direction with apprehension. “Now, what information can you share about the Prince?”

Akaashi recalls the details of their cover story. “We were able to flee the Central Square. Sugawara-san and I retreated towards the southern streets for safety. We took refuge in a bar and waited hours, but there were many guards raiding and it was still a very dangerous situation. We travelled towards the eastern streets instead, thinking it would be a calmer area. As we were passing through, we caught someone resembling the Prince entering a large building.”

“And how long ago was this?” The Captain asks.

“An hour or so. The sun was beginning to set,” Akaashi answers.

"Was there anyone else present with him?" 

"Yes, a knight. His face was covered."

“If I were to lay a map of the city out, could you point the exact location you saw him?”

“I believe so,” Akaashi answer calmly. Ojiro signals them over to a table, folding a map of the city open. Sugawara watches Akaashi point to a section of the map, recalling the details of the house. He can’t grasp any opportunities to ask further questions while they speak.

“This is very valuable information. I appreciate you bringing it to me,” Ojiro says.

Sugawara’s hands tighten at his sides. Too bad they haven’t been given anything valuable. They haven’t figured anything out, or if they can really trust this guy. What happens if they try to bring the Prince to the castle and the Captain ambushes them?

The Captain begins walking towards the door to escort them outside. Sugawara watches Akaashi and Tsukishima turning around too.

“Wait!” He cries. The other three pause, each of them staring at him. Sugawara remembers his voice, though it comes shaky. “There’s…something else I just remembered. But I only want to tell you, Captain.”

Tsukishima doesn’t appear pleased, judging by the sharp edge to his expression; however, Akaashi is intrigued by the improvisation.

Ojiro nods his head. “Well, okay.”

Sugawara’s hands are nearly trembling by the time the door closes and the two of them are left alone. He sits on one of the benches, releasing a small sigh and listening to the Captain’s steps coming closer. Sugawara peers up as the sound halts; Ojiro stands tall above him, in the aisle with his arms crossed over his chest.

“What else do you have to tell me?” He asks. Sugawara can hear some assertion in his question and tries to not be intimidated further, but he is exerting a frightening pressure.

“You don’t trust him, do you?” Sugawara asks, losing the lighthearted layer to his voice.

He watches Ojiro blink, perhaps not expecting the accusation.

“Earlier, you said the guard was new, and you gave him a look after saying gathering witnesses was worth investigating. I think you're unsure about him.”

“Very perceptive of you,” Ojiro points out, but he remains firm. “Is this the reason you asked to speak to me privately?”

“Partially. I do have something else to tell you though,” Sugawara assures. He feels good, like he’s gaining some traction now.

The Captain motions for him to continue. Sugawara inhales. “Remember how I said the guards weren’t obeying the Prince?” He waits for Ojiro’s nod. “Well, it was like they were taking orders from a different man on the podium.”

“Who was he?” Captain Ojiro asks. There’s an edge of nervousness to his question. Sugawara thinks he's close; if he can grasp this thread, he can get the confirmation they need. He has to!

“Ah, there was so much going on,” Sugawara feigns, rubbing a hand over his forehead. It's a good way to give himself a couple seconds to breathe.

Captain Ojiro steps closer, taking a seat next to Sugawara on the bench. “Please, try to remember. It could be useful information towards keeping the Prince safe.”

Sugawara gazes his way. “I don’t know his name, I’m sorry,” he lies.

“What about his appearance? Can you describe it?” The Captain probes.

It’s a bold move, to reveal the truth. But Sugawara has to go for it, or else this last-minute attempt at pulling something out of Ojiro will go to waste. “Yes, um,” he closes his eyes. “My height, maybe a little shorter. Dark robes and brown hair. It came to his shoulders.”

“If you had to guess his age?”

“Fifties, maybe?” Sugawara tries. He’s terrible with judging ages.

“Shit,” Ojiro sighs.

Sugawara holds the anticipation down, remembering to keep his breathing steady. “What is it, Captain?”

Ojiro’s lips purse and Sugawara thinks perhaps he tested his luck a bit too far. The Captain sighs again, shaking his head. “Oh, what the hell,” he says, staring at Sugawara. “The new platoon I mentioned earlier? They’re the ones who were tasked with patrolling the Central Square during the trial.”

Sugawara nods, trying to piece it together. “Why would you use inexperienced guards for something so high-profile?” He can’t help asking.

“They weren’t inexperienced, they were a new transfer of guards who were stationed in the south. And it was not my decision. Lord Kozume- the man you saw, he was the one who assigned them. He said it was under Prince Hinata’s order, but I found it unlikely.”

“You think this platoon is suspicious,” Sugawara infers.

Captain Ojiro shakes his head. “I’m almost certain. In the transfer report I received, it mentioned the men came from a location in the South, but I’d never heard of the place, and it’s not on any maps either.”

“What was it called?”

“The Institute of Dark Magic.”

* * *

Kenma awakens with blurry vision. Candlelight flickers dim shadows over the room. He lies in a large bed, and recognizes the decorations and furniture. Tilting his head to the side, Shouyou is slumped in a sitting position next to him on the guest bed. His chin is down to his chest, and Kenma can only imagine how sore his neck is going to be sleeping such a way.

He lifts a hand to ease him awake, and pauses with it in the air above his face. It’s bandaged completely, and reminds him of what happened. How could he have momentarily forgotten? The longer he dwells, he notices he’s much drowsier than normal, even for having just woken. Shifting into a sitting position, his perception wavers. A sedative, most likely, considering Kenma thinks he should be in greater pain than he currently is.

He lays the outstretched hand on Hinata’s arm, and shakes him gently. Dull pain fires into his fingers. Hinata snaps awake immediately, head shooting up. He blinks off the bewilderment, then fixes on Kenma. Neither of them is sure what to say at first.

Shouyou ends up nodding to his hands. “What happened?”

“My father,” Kenma replies.

“Yea I know…” He trails of awkwardly. “I mean, why?” Shouyou continues.

“He thought I was responsible for what happened in the Central Square.”

Shouyou’s voice is empathetic. “And he…hurt you like this because of it?”

Kenma exhales slowly. “Shouyou, my father is a bad person. Had Kuroo not intervened…” he stops, then focuses on the bandages. “This is minimal compared to some of the things he’s done.”

“He…” Shouyou pauses, hesitant. “Did you know about my father?”

“I need more detail.”

Shouyou appears relieved by his statement. “Your father told me things. He was the one who hired the assassin. And he was involved in the death of the King. I think he may have been the one to really orchestrate it. The others involved were collateral.”

Kenma nods, pressing his tongue into an incisor. The muscle strains under the sharp bone. “I held my suspicions. Unfortunately, I had had no proof to go beyond them. He never told me anything,” he admits.

“Oh,” Shouyou says. “Is that why you never told me?”

“I think,” Kenma pauses. "I didn't want to find out the truth."

Tension leaks into the silence and once again, neither know what to say.

Kenma goes for it this time. “Is he here?”

Shouyou nods. “In the dungeon.”

Kenma’s shoulders slouch in relief. “Keep him there forever.”

Shouyou giggles quietly and Kenma glances at him curiously. “Where is everyone else?” He asks.

“The mercenaries all have their own rooms down the hall. I told Oikawa, Bokuto and Asahi to rest for the night. I think they’re all in guest rooms too though. Everyone wanted to stay together.”

Kenma hums in acknowledgement, closing his eyes.

“We’re going to have a meeting with Captain Ojiro in the morning to discuss the guards. He told Sugawara a new platoon arrived to the castle shortly after my father was killed. He said Lord Kozume was in charge of them, and thinks they’re the ones responsible for the riots, and our capture. He doesn’t think all of the guards are traitors, at least.”

Kenma’s eyes open. “Where did the platoon come from?”

It’s a silly question. He already knows the answer. How did he not connect this sooner? His sharp incisor delves further into his tongue, fluttering twinges of pain.

Shouyou shakes his head. “I don’t know. You want to sit in on the meeting to find out?” He offers.

Kenma stares at him with doubt, as if he misheard. “Why aren’t you angry?” He asks.

“Huh?”

“About what my father did to you?” Kenma insists, a tad annoyed he has to spell it out for Shouyou. “How can you trust me to be at such a sensitive meeting? More importantly, how are you acting so nonchalant about this?”

Shouyou has his brows drawn down, now leering at Kenma. “I don’t understand. Do you want me to hate you?”

“I-” Kenma stops, lowering his head.

He hears shuffling, then looks up to Shouyou, who has moved closer.

“Did you tell him where we were located?”

“No.”

“Do you know how he found us?”

“Some of the guards come across the abandoned castle wagon on the outskirts of the forest. It must have been the one Nishinoya took.”

Shouyou nods. “Okay, so why wouldn’t I trust you? How is anything he did your fault?” He asks.

Kenma sighs. It shouldn't be this easy, he thinks. Then again, this is Shouyou. Conventional thinking and methods are unknown to him.

“I haven’t been honest with you about something. For too long.”

And finally, he tells Shouyou everything about the Institute of Dark Magic.

* * *

A bang from somewhere outside of his room wakes Nishinoya. He sits up with a sharp jolt, peering in the direction of his closed door with bleary sight. He hears shuffling- the sound of footsteps, and springs out of bed. He lifts his mattress and grabs the small knife tucked under, running next to his door and pressing himself tightly to the wall.

He hears the click of his door opening, then gets a glimpse of a tall figure stepping inside. Noya strikes quick; leaping on his back, legs wrapping around the man’s torso and the knife brought close to his neck.

He's about to demand an explanation, but the man lets out a startled sound- well, more like a squeak of fear, and it’s how Nishinoya recognizes who it belongs to. Unfortunately, Asahi loses balance and Nishinoya tosses the knife aside quickly to avoid accidentally stabbing either of them as they go crashing to the ground.

For a couple breaths, they lay there in the dark. Nishinoya’s heart is still beating quick from the sudden shot of adrenaline and he’s sure Asahi is working through his own panic from being assaulted.

“Asahi?” He finally asks.

“Sorry, I guess knocking would have been better, huh?”

* * *

Iwaizumi is sitting atop of the pristine bed of his guest room as knocking sounds from the opposite side of the bedroom door. He answers it, greeted with the sight of Oikawa folding his arms behind him, smiling sweetly.

“I have a surprise for you, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi cocks his head. “This late?” He questions.

“I bet you weren’t sleeping,” Oikawa teases with a wink. “You answered the door quick.”

No, he wasn’t. Iwaizumi shrugs, and decides to indulge him. He’s not sure he’ll do much sleeping tonight anyway. It’s hard for him to feel at ease surprisingly enough. Iwaizumi almost feels like he’s waiting for the next sneak attack to leap out from behind the pillars.

Oikawa stops in front of a door at the end of the hall, and swings it open. Within, a large, open room dimly lit by the assorted candles around the room. There are five steps leading upwards onto a stone platform. A large, in-ground bath has been cut out of the stone in the middle of it. It’s filled with water hot enough the steam rolls off of the top layer. A small tray sits next to the bath, with towels, washcloths, soap and even a decanter of wine. Across the opposite side of the room, tall, open windows expose the night beyond the castle.

“Ready for a bath?” Oikawa asks him, stepping inside the room.

“I’ll pass,” Iwaizumi says, remaining in place.

Oikawa turns to him. “You’re filthy. You can’t sleep in a clean bed,” he insists.

Iwaizumi supposes he should know better by now; it probably wasn’t a request. “Says who?” He counters. He can tell he’s being purposefully challenging.

Maybe Oikawa senses this, because he doesn’t try to lure Iwaizumi in return. “Don’t be a wet blanket. You’ve had a rough day, haven’t you? You should relax.”

“We’ve both had a rough day,” Iwaizumi corrects, glancing down at Oikawa’s knee.

Oikawa shrugs. “I suppose.”

“Let’s share it,” Iwaizumi says, nodding to the bath.

He can tell Oikawa is caught off guard by the stunned blink, but it’s a quick recovery for him and he agrees. Nothing is said between undressing and entering the bath. Iwaizumi sighs as he submerges his body into the hot water and it instantly begins soothing his tired, aching muscles. Staying cramped in the dungeon cell for days has left him feeling weak and lethargic. Iwaizumi settles on the bench encircling the inner perimeter of the bath, and closes his eyes. He hears water splashing gently as Oikawa enters as well.

He listens to Oikawa pouring two cups of wine and accepts the one passed his way with a small thanks. For a while, the two of them share a comfortable silence. Oikawa downs his cup of wine quicker than he, pouring himself another as Iwaizumi is half finished his own.

“Gonne let yourself get outdrank by a prissy noble?” Oikawa teases him, swirling the cup and taking a sip.

“You’re a nightmare,” Iwaizumi chuckles, tipping his head back and gulping the rest of the wine. Still too sweet for his liking, but it’s growing on him.

Iwaizumi can practically trace the glint of candlelight flickering in Oikawa’s eyes. “So, you do know how to have fun,” he purrs.

And it’s not fair. Iwaizumi thinks, that the tone in which he says it is enough to draw something pleasurable from within. “When the time calls for it,” he murmurs, passing him the cup to be filled.

Oikawa is smiling as he turns to the tray. “Say, Iwa-chan.”

His tone is too pristine for his liking. Iwaizumi grunts, accepting the refilled cup.

“Let me wash you.”

“You’re not subtle, Traskykawa.”

Iwaizumi can feel his face heating despite being the one to call him out.

“Wow, quite the ego on you, hm?” Oikawa coos, grabbing the bar of soap from the tray and lathering his hands. “I was being honest. I’ll show you how to _nicely_ wash someone.”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. Knowing Oikawa will only pester him further until he gets his way, he sets the cup over the ledge of the bath and doesn’t protest as Oikawa wades over to him with his sudsy hands hovering above the water. He allows the tips of Oikawa’s fingers to press above his collarbone, kneading out towards his shoulders.

His touch is firm, but his movements are slow, placing pressure along his shoulders. He tells Iwaizumi to lift an arm above the water and lathers the soap into his skin with gentle, circular movements. An exhale draws his deep in his chest.

“Feels good?” Oikawa asks with a small smile.

It does. Oikawa’s fingers knead into his bicep, and while it’s somewhat painful it feels like there is something good coming out of it. Oikawa works the stress out of his body, his fingers massaging and lathering soap down his forearm, all the way to his hand. His thumbs press firmly into the meat of his palm, stroking in small upwards motions that glide like silk against his skin.

It feels _really_ good.

He peeks at Oikawa through near closed lashes. His attention is focused on Iwaizumi’s hand, stuck in a sort of thoughtful expression as he massages his hand. Without much thought, Iwaizumi slips his soapy hand free from Oikawa’s grasp and slides his fingers up the side of Oikawa’s neck, poking through his hairline and behind his ear.

“That was you in the crowd, wasn’t it?” Iwaizumi asks.

The side of Oikawa’s mouth curls up. “I’m surprised you caught me. In all those thousands of people.”

He draws Iwaizumi in more than he knows. Iwaizumi’s thumb strokes along his jawline. “I thought maybe I was hallucinating. You know, like how people say they see angels or demons before passing.”

“Ah,” Oikawa ponders, leaning into Iwaizumi’s touch. “What was I?”

Iwaizumi considers this, pressing a chaste kiss to Oikawa’s mouth. “Both.”

Up this close, Oikawa’s pupils have swollen so much only a hint of his iris visible. He feels the man’s hands sliding around his shoulders, warm and firm on his body. Another thrill spikes in him and Iwaizumi kisses Oikawa again, firmer. He receives a small sound of appreciation for his efforts.

Oikawa pulls away, only an inch or two. “Thank you.”

Iwaizumi studies those ridiculously long lashes he can count individually up this close. “For kissing you?”

Oikawa flicks his nose, leaving a soapy spot. “For forcing me to train at your fort. You reminded me of something I thought I’d lost so long ago.”

He kisses Oikawa a third time. “I should be the one thanking you. You saved me and my friends on top of rescuing the Prince and exposing the corruption in the Kingdom. You got your comeback moment, you know? A pretty fuckin’ good one if you ask me.”

Oikawa laughs, his eyes dropping to the water and smiling. A real, genuine one.

“I think I did it the right way,” he admits.

“You did, and you should be proud of yourself.”

He only says it because for some reason, Oikawa appears modest in this instance. He almost asks, _what’s with the sudden bashfulness?_ The guy was sure parroting himself around earlier in the day. But he’s much too pleased with the way Oikawa’s smile grows from his words to care. Not into something fake, or cunning, but rather into something playful. Devious would be a better way to describe it.

“Are you proud of me too, Hajime?”

_Holy shit._

A thrilling spike wracks Iwaizumi’s entire body from the way Oikawa draws out his name.

“Let me show you how much,” he murmurs, placing his hands on Oikawa's hips and drawing him into his lap. The skin on skin contact is more than enough to heighten Iwaizumi's senses. Oikawa gives an audible gasp, partially cut off due to Iwaizumi’s mouth on his. He clings to Iwaizumi harder and eases himself further onto his lap. The brush of their thighs feeds the fire growing alarmingly quick inside of Iwaizumi. 

Oikawa's lips part and Iwaizumi angles his head to allow for deeper kisses. Their tongues meet and Iwaizumi pulls Oikawa close until there’s no distance left between their bodies. He gets more than he bargained for, hissing through clenched teeth at the sensation of their erections grazing. The contact sets off a haze of cloudiness in Iwaizumi's mind.

He's foggy, caught in the pleasure of Oikawa. The soft lips, growing greedy the more they kiss. The taut muscles in his legs, flexing with Iwaizumi's grip tight on them. The small whine he gives when Iwaizumi pulls his mouth back to stipple kisses along his jaw. Somewhere along the line, his tongue drags over the soft skin of his neck and he nibbles. He feels Oikawa twitch against him; a nonverbal cue of stimulation. He bites down harder on Oikawa's neck. Feels him twitch again and drags his tongue over the skin.

"The sun is going to rise before we get started," Oikawa gasps out. Iwaizumi's lips press into the dip of his collarbone.

"Impatient brat," he murmurs, bracing his arms around Oikawa’s thighs and lifting him up to sit him on the edge of the tub. He’s heavier than expected, or Iwaizumi misjudged how weak he currently is. He sets Oikawa down a little roughly, earning a small scoff.

It’s an easy fix, Iwaizumi figures. And sure enough, Oikawa’s frustration melts down to unwavering desire as Iwaizumi gets on his knees, eases Oikawa’s thighs open and lowers his head.

* * *

Kuroo moves his castle four spaces, claiming Kenma’s second knight. He places the chess piece with the others he’s collected thus far on the mattress. Kenma wears heavy concentration, studying the board intently. He’s still, but Kuroo can tell he’s considering multiple possibilities and their outcomes on the game.

He waits to speak until Kenma moves his rook, claiming the castle and adding it to his similar sized pile of Kuroo’s fallen chess pieces. “How come you never told the Prince the truth about the Institute?” He asks, trained on the board.

Conversation between them has been limited. Kuroo convinced himself he only paid Kenma a visit because he wanted answers; however, they’re into deep into their third game and he’s barely touched the subject. He doesn’t know what to say, because he isn’t sure what to think of it all. He’s been sorting through all the events in his head, cross examining them with his own opinions, questions and uncertainties. But he still doesn’t know what to say. Kuroo doesn’t enjoy grey areas; he likes his thoughts stark in their contrast, be it black or white.

“I thought it was in his best interest to remain ignorant,” Kenma replies without hesitating.

Kuroo crosses his arms and slouches in his seat, giving Kenma an unimpressed stare. The brunet purses his lips uncomfortably under the scrutiny.

“Bullshit. He’s going to rule soon, he should know about important things like schools raising and selling slave mages.”

“He would find out eventually.”

"And so, what was your plan then? Were you ever going to try to put a stop to it?"

"Yes," Kenma hisses defensively. "The day I assumed authority over it."

"How long would that have taken? Years?"

"Playing the long game ensures victory."

"Kenma, this isn’t _this,"_ Kuroo says, waving over the chess board. "It’s real life."

"I know," Kenma protests.

"Do you? How many more kids would have had to suffer and wait for their chance at a normal life?" Kuroo asks, his voice raising.

Black, his mind says. It’s all black, no white to muddle it further.

Kenma’s eyes are shut tight.

“Kuroo,” Kenma starts patiently. He inhales, seeming to consider saying one thing, then exhales and nods. “You’re right. I'm sorry, truly. I was wrong for thinking the way I did.”

“You were,” Kuroo can’t help echoing. Kenma’s gaze averts and Kuroo turns his attention to the bandages on the brunet’s hands, glaring. White bandages, mocking him and turning everything grey once again. How could a father commit such an act on their own child? “If Hinata knew, maybe things could have ended different-”

“But they didn’t,” Kenma interrupts him, his voice stern. He won’t look in his direction as he talks. “I was scared, Kuroo. I know it doesn’t change things, but maybe you can understand why it altered my line of judgement. My father terrifies me. If Hinata knew the true nature of the Institute, he would have done everything he could to put a stop to it as soon as he learned. I am certain of this.”

Amidst his words, Kuroo wants to interject with, _what is wrong with that exactly!?_ But he waits, and listens patiently, knowing Kenma isn't finished.

“My father would have destroyed him like he did his father. I’ve seen what he’s capable of doing. You have too. I wanted to protect Shouyou, so I made my choice to keep him ignorant and I suffered the consequences. Who knows what could have been had I played my cards different? Infinite possibilities are out there. This,” he pauses to observe his bandaged hands and feet. “Is the best outcome I could have hoped for.”

Kuroo isn’t expecting the retort. It’s a lot to sort through. “How is it the best? Seems like you got a shit slice of this pie.”

He doesn’t expect himself to be so honest. But hearing what Kenma has had to say- it makes thing difficult. Makes him hard to distinguish-

He lied to them from the start, endangering him and his friends.

He saved Iwaizumi’s from a certain death.

He didn’t stick up for any of them when Lord Kozume ambushed the fort.

He risked his life to try and stop his Father. And not a slight risk- it was fatal. He's sure Kenma was aware of it going into the situation. Kuroo saw the man responsible for all of his pain, and he also saw how he used his power to hurt those in his family. Clearly, the man is another breed of messed up.

Black, or white?

He’s… Kenma is....

“My father has been stopped. Shouyou is safe. And…” Kenma sighs, reluctant to add, “you are too.”

He's grey.

Kuroo blinks. His frustration fizzles into a moody expression. “You coddle the Prince too much,” he comments.

Kenma surveys him with unflinching focus. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you well,” he rebuttals, calm and clear. A flush creeps up his neck as he turns his head down to study the chess board.

Kuroo stammers over his denial.

* * *

Yamaguchi hears the barn door opening and pokes his head out of the stall to check on who it is. He drops the grooming brush from his hands and covers his mouth with both hands at the sight in the doorway; Tsukishima leading Atticus inside.

He’s spotted immediately. “Yamaguchi,” Tsukishima greets like he would any other time. So calm and collected.

Yamaguchi throws formalities over his shoulder and bolts towards them. He envelops the surprised man into a tight embrace, pressing his head into his shoulder.

“You’re okay,” he breathes. “You’re both here.”

A hand lays on the small of his back. “I made a promise.”

Yamaguchi laughs breathlessly. A snort from Atticus has him peering over Tsukishima’s shoulder and grinning at the horse. Did he somehow grow larger? Yamaguchi steps around Tsukishima to pet the horse gently, wrapping an arm around him and leaning into the steed.

“I have to get to a meeting with Kenma,” Tsukishima says. He must sense the deflation in Yamaguchi’s posture at the words, because he amends himself. “Will I find you here after it’s done?”

“Yes, but Tsukki-” he starts, then cuts himself off. “Wait, Lord Kozume's son? Is it…” He stops.

Tsukishima is giving him a questioning stare. “Is it what, Yamaguchi?”

He worries his bottom lip between teeth. “Hasn’t his father been arrested?”

Tsukishima shrugs. “I was the one who brought him here, on Kenma’s orders.”

Yamaguchi blinks in surprise. “Oh,” is all he manages. Atticus bumps his head lightly and Yamaguchi resumes scratching his neck. “Family drama?”

Tsukishima scoffs a half-laugh. “I imagine.”

Well, if he trusts Kenma, Yamaguchi is fine doing the same. “Hold on, I think you should bring something with you. Take Atticus.”

Tsukishima lifts a brow and instead of explaining, Yamaguchi walks towards Atticus’ stall, unlatching it and walking inside. He hears Tsukishima’s quiet steps crunching hay beneath his feet, trailing behind. Yamaguchi wanders into the corner and drops to his knees, beginning to push the pile of hay around.

“Yamaguchi-” Tsukishima starts, a tad annoyed.

“Aha!” He interrupts, lifting the book and turning to Tsukishima. retrieving the journal from the pile of hay. He passes it off to Tsukishima, taking Atticus in exchange and guiding him into his stall.

He hears flipping of the pages as he starts removing the saddle from Atticus. “Yamaguchi. Where did you find this?” Tsukishima asks skeptically.

Yamaguchi huffs a laugh, turning to face him. “It’s a long story. You’ll be late to your meeting if I try to explain.”

Tsukishima nods, closing the book. “I guess we both have a lot to talk about later,” he comments as he heads for the door, but stops and turns.

“Yamaguchi.”

He smiles, closing Atticus’ stall and glancing towards Tsukishima. How he’s missed hearing his voice. “Yea, Tsukki?”

Tsukishima reaches into his bag, removing something circular and tossing it to him. Yamaguchi catches it with a surprised sound and studies the mango in his hand.

“Atticus really likes them.”

When Tsukishima returns to the barn later, the first thing Yamaguchi does is grab him by the shoulders and kiss him.

* * *

“Well, I want to start this off by saying thank you. To each of you,” Hinata says, glancing around the table. “You went above and beyond, right until the end. We wouldn't be sitting here now like this without your help.”

“I also want to extend an apology, for letting things get the way they did. I knew it would be silly to think my plans would go accordingly, but I never could have predicted what actually happened. Specifically, to Iwaizumi, Daichi and Kuroo. I hope you can forgive my carelessness,” he says with a bow of his head.

Iwaizumi nods. “We accept your apology. What’s going to happen now?”

“Ah, well,” Hinata says, glancing at Oikawa to take over.

“Lord Kozume’s trial will be in a few days. It will be a private event, held here in the castle. Once he’s formally tried, he’ll be detained in the dungeon infinitely. We learned a platoon under Lord Kozume’s control was transferred to the castle following the King’s assassination. These were the men positioned in the Central Square, and likely responsible for most of the damage done to the city. One of them was also the one who attempted the Prince’s life.

“We have men out searching for the fugitive who was unjustly released. The other two captured from the North are going to await trial as well. Then Hinata’s coronation will take place. We have to get him on the throne as soon as possible to restore order. It’s going to take a lot of restoration and effort too, but it’s our first steps towards fixing things.”

“And I want all of you to be in attendance!” Hinata chimes in excitedly. “That is, if you want to join. There will be a big party!” He entices.

“A party?” Sugawara repeats.

“Yes, with food and dancing and everything else! I think it’s a good way for us to also formally celebrate your success.”

“I’m sure we can work something out so long as we get the details,” Iwaizumi agrees.

* * *

Bokuto calls to Akaashi in the hallway. The sniper turns to him from the group of mercenaries, excusing himself and approaching Bokuto.

“You’re coming to the coronation, right?” He asks, hope laced in the excited question.

The side of Akaashi’s mouth curls up. “I would not dream of missing it.”

Bokuto’s eyes are near closed from his grin. “Great! Listen, before I escort you and the others, can I show you something?”

Akaashi nods. “I do not see why not.”

The knight tilts his head down the hallway, placing a hand on Akaashi’s back to guide him. “Come on then!”

He leads Akaashi to the outer training grounds, stopping in front of a large wooden crate. He watches Akaashi inspect it with a tad of curiosity.

“I can lend you a small wagon to transport it. I think you should be able to get it through the forest fine!”

“This is for me?” Akaashi asks.

Bokuto bangs on the top of the lid with a burst of laughs. “Well, of course!”

“Bokuto-san, I cannot accept this.”

He tenses. “Why not? You haven’t seen what's inside!”

“I was not expecting this. I have nothing to return the favour.”

Oh man, sometimes Akaashi says things which tip Bokuto in favour of holding his face in both hands and planting a hard kiss on his mouth. If they were some place private, he’d definitely be doing it already.

“Come on, open it first at least!”

Akaashi sighs, reaching to prop the lid off the crate. He peers inside, then at Bokuto.

“I figured you could use some new targets for practice,” Bokuto explains. All of a sudden, he’s feeling fond. Of their first meeting in the forest; how Akaashi shot a warning arrow and Bokuto thought it was crazy how someone who just tried to kill you could be so beautiful. Of their time together; chatting for hours on end and learning bits and bits of information about Akaashi along the way. His favourite tea is lavender. Shooting a bow is like breathing air for him. He can be a bit of an overthinker at times, but his ability to analyze situations with composure is admirable. He could go on an on, recalling countless other details. There is so much he’s learned about this man in such a short time, and yet, Bokuto suddenly grows greedy for more. He’s just explored the beginnings of the vastness that is Akaashi Keiji, and he wants to journey it all.

Akaashi glances in their immediate surroundings. A small group of guards are drilling rounds, focused on their training. He grabs Bokuto’s wrist suddenly, leading them towards the small training weapon armoury.

“Akaashi?” Bokuto asks, and receives no response. He worries maybe he did something wrong, and stews on the idea of what it may have been.

He’s so caught up in his thoughts, he doesn’t pay mind to Akaashi closing the door. But it’s hard to ignore the hands cupping his jaw and the lips pressing to his own. Bokuto releases a small sound of satisfaction, planting his hands on either side of Akaashi’s waist. Is it wrong to find this so thrilling? Bokuto isn’t sure if it’s the fact that they’re acting sort of recklessly, or if it’s because Akaashi is the one who initiated it. But really, who cares? There are much better things he chooses to focus on. Like, Akaashi’s hungry lips. Or the sound he makes as one of Bokuto’s hands slides up his back to pull him closer.

Akaashi breaks their kiss, pressing their foreheads together. “You are too good to me,” he murmurs.

“Don’t think I could ever be,” Bokuto objects, simple and honest.

* * *

At any point during the day of the coronation, Oikawa has a minimum of ten things he’s juggling in his mind. Between the prep for the ceremony, the guests and Hinata, he’s been focused on ensuring everything goes well.

In exchange for such a perfectionist sort of outlook, he’s left feeling drained fairly early in the day. A sort of temporary relief is granted to him as he’s standing to the side of Hinata, watching the crown being placed on his head by a minister. An indulgence of peace is granted to him. It’s silly, because nothing magical happens as Hinata raises his head, and turns to face the crowd and yet, an awe-struck sensation takes Oikawa in the chest. The King is free of his eye patch. His vision isn't fully restored, but Hinata insisted he wanted to take it off today, even if just for the ceremony. He seems to actually like the scar on his face, oddly enough. It's probably because Bokuto told him it made him look tough.

His scans over the group of people in the benches, no more than fifty present. The ceremony itself is very small compared to what’s to come later in the day. Oikawa could close his eyes and sigh at the thought of all the other things he needs to keep track of to ensure the celebration dinner and party go according.

Though, the concerns toward having food prepped, or double checking the guards posted at the select locations he’s assigned wear away at the sight of Iwaizumi. He’s situated at the back rows, along with the other mercenaries. Oikawa only gets a view of the upper half of his body, but he appears well dressed, fitted in a formal black doublet. The longer he indulges, the more he grows impatient to talk with him.

Iwaizumi smiles, probably at Hinata. It’s small, and hard to see from their distance apart, but it renders Oikawa’s heart fluttering nonetheless.

* * *

“Not happening.”

“But, Iwa-chan, you promised me a dance!”

“You liar, I never promised you anything!”

Sugawara observes the two bickering nearby with amusement. “Love is blooming everywhere today,” he murmurs into his cup.

“Hm?” Daichi asks, leaning closer to him and sliding a hand over the small of his back, rubbing gently. Sugawara can tell he’s tipsy, secretly enjoying the revelation. Daichi always grows handsy after a couple of drinks.

Sugawara smiles, shaking his head. In the center of the ballroom, there are numerous couples dancing to the slow-paced string ballad played by the performers. He spots Akaashi leading Bokuto in a waltz, the two of them smiling at each other as if in their own private world, away from everyone else.

He drops his cup to the table. “Oh, it’s just too much!” He expresses with envy, turning to Daichi. “I want to dance with you like that.”

Daichi follows his waving hand gesture over to the couples, and he smiles something sheepish. A drunken flush tints his tanned face and Sugawara wants to reach and smooth a hand over the skin.

“I don’t think I’d be able to get my feet to move the proper way.”

Sugawara can’t deny his words, or the idea of him in the same situation. So, he waits for the song to end, watches Akaashi and Bokuto walking away from the dance floor and springs up, manoeuvring his way across the room.

“I didn’t know you could dance!” He accuses Akaashi within earshot.

Akaashi turns to him with a sheepish smile, folding his hands in front of himself. “Yes, I must admit, it has been awhile since I last practiced.”

“You were great!” Bokuto assures.

“Teach me, please?” Sugawara asks hopeful.

Akaashi flushes, an embarrassed shade of cherry and yet, nods, leading Sugawara into the crowd of dancing pairs.

* * *

Kuroo watches Sugawara miss a step and fumble over his own feet, nearly falling had Akaashi not steadied him with good timing and graceful arms catching him. Sugawara is dipped down, back curved in an arc and supported by Akaashi’s hold. They meet each other’s gazes in surprise, only to end up laughing in unison seconds later.

“I think I’ve been overlooking Akaashi all this time,” Kuroo jokes. “He is awfully suave.”

“Really?” Bokuto asks, arching a brow at him. “Are you blind?”

* * *

Hinata turns around at the sound of the door to the ballroom balcony opening. Kageyama steps out into the cool night, but pauses before approaching. Hinata flicks his head in a _join me_ gesture, watching Kageyama reluctantly step forward and close the door behind him. The sounds of chatter and instruments harmonizing from within grow faint. Kageyama stops next to Hinata, peering over the railing at the city below.

“Have you enjoyed yourself tonight?” Hinata asks. “I haven’t been able to speak with you.”

Kageyama shrugs a shoulder, his lips pursed. “It’s been fine.”

“Too fancy for your liking?” Hinata jests, bumping his shoulder. Kageyama bumps him in return, harder. He snickers and Kageyama remains fixated on the night sky above.

“I said it was fine,” he insists.

“Yea, but you said it _like this,_ ” Hinata pitches his tone low and mean at the end, going so far as to mimic Kageyama’s sour expression.

He receives a hearty leer in return and can only laugh. Until Kageyama tries to reach for him, but Hinata squeaks out nervous excitement and dodges the arm. Kageyama doesn’t give up, springing forward to try and catch him again. Hinata ducks, and presses his back to Kageyama. He senses him trying to shuffle right, so he mirrors the and shuffles left so their backs continue to stay pressed. Kageyama feigns left and lures Hinata, changing his course quick and catching him by the wrist.

“You’ve been practicing,” he observes. Kageyama scowls at him, but it’s at half capacity.

“Not as much as I’d like to be, but it’s daily!” Hinata admits with a toothy grin. “Haven’t done it today though. Too much going on.”

Kageyama gives a sound of acknowledgement, returning to the railing of the balcony and crossing his arms over it. Hinata watches him curiously, then approaches next to him.

"You kept your promise, you know," Hinata says.

Kageyama side-eyes him. "I told you I would."

Hinata sighs, gripping the railing and leaning his weight backwards, so he can stretch out his shoulders. "Without you, who knows where I’d be? Maybe buried in the ground with my father and mother."

Kageyama turns to him sharply. "Idiot, don’t say things like that."

Hinata stands up straight, coming up close in Kageyama’s space. "It’s true though. I owe you and everyone else so much," he insists.

"You don’t owe us anything, you already paid us," Kageyama replies, his shoulders stiff.

Hinata smiles, only slightly deflated. “Right.”

“I’m…” Kageyama struggles to form the next word. He tries an alternative route. “it’s good you’re safe. I’m glad. About it. You being safe.”

“Oh,” Hinata let’s out. He’s taken off guard, yet in a good way. It’s hard to distinguish because his heart still pounds in nervous wracks, but he figures this is different because in addition, butterflies hatch from inside of his stomach. They flutter in wisps, tickling the walls with featherlight wings. "Wanna sneak off and train?" He asks suddenly.

A smirk settles on Kageyama's face.

* * *

In his peripheral, Daichi watches the King leading Kageyama somewhere, holding him by the wrist as they sneak out of the ballroom. He chokes on some wine going down.

Sugawara gives him a questioning stare. Daichi wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. “I think I saw Kageyama being kidnapped by the King,” he explains.

Sugawara smirks, rolling his eyes and sipping his drink. “Old news Daichi, I’ve known about those two for awhile.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ya, I couldn’t resist throwing some s4 characters in there. I am a slut for Atsumu.
> 
> If you made it to the end, then good on you. I hope it was worth it. And thanks to those for the comments, kudos and love ♡ always appreciated.
> 
> I wanted to share some things I really enjoyed writing:  
> -Kenma and Hinata playing chess in chapter 2, when Hinata finds out Kenma tracked down Kageyama. It was simple, but helped me really gain steam with the plot.  
> -any sassy Oikawa moment: very self explanatory.  
> -entire chapter 17  
> -Iwaizumi and Oikawa’s interactions in chapter 13
> 
> I’d love to hear what your favourite parts were!
> 
> Stay tuned for epilogues ♡


	19. (Ep) The Gardenia in Bloom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, hello strangers! Glad to be back with the first instalment of the epilogues 😁 Remember how I said each one was going to be b/w 4-8 thousand a pop? 
> 
> Well, that turned out to be a filthy lie, especially in this case. It's over 11k
> 
> Just a couple quick notes:
> 
> -The overall content in the epilogues is much more domestic compared to the rest of the story (with a few exceptions)  
> -This one features a few s4 characters!  
> -There are also very explicit sex scenes from here on out

Hinata knocks on one of the double doors in front of him. He has the option of simply walking in if he wants too, but instead waits patiently for the servant to open the door. She blinks at him, taking a second to register and open the door further to bow.

“Your Highness. It’s late, are you well?” She asks.

Hinata smiles in return. “Yes, it’s been a busy day. Is he home?” He asks.

She nods, stepping away to offer him inside. “Ah, yes. Come, I’ll take you to him.”

Most of the house is dark. The servant carries a candle, guiding Hinata to a small hallway in the house. It’s silent the entire way, until the servant offers the door open to him. Hinata steps in, taking in the small room. There isn’t much to it; A couch in the middle, a small side table holding a half-full cup of tea atop. A large, plush mat covers nearly the entire room, woven together in an intricate pattern. A large fireplace is in front of the couch, lit and leaving the room in an orange glow. It's Kenma's reading room; a place he enjoys spending time alone in.

He lays on his back by the fireplace, cushioned by the rug. A book is held inches away from his face, and doesn’t move at the sound of the door opening.

“My Lord, you have a visitor,” the servant informs him.

Slowly, the book lowers to reveal his face. Hinata offers a wave to Kenma and steps forward while the servant excuses herself. The book returns to its original position, blocking his face from fight.

“What’cha reading?” Hinata asks.

“A History of Dark Magic.”

Hinata sits cross legged by his feet, fixed on the fire. It could use another log or two, he thinks. “The ones your grandfather wrote?”

“No. I found this while going through my father’s room. It’s much older.”

“Hm,” Hinata hums, lulled by the flickering flames. Minutes pass and it’s as if he’s hypnotized into a trance by the fire. 

“You were upset today,” he murmurs, not thinking much on the words as he speaks.

Silence follows the comment. Hinata glances at Kenma. His hands, covered by leather gloves, flex tight against the book covers. “It wasn’t easy,” he hears quietly.

“No, I didn’t think it would be,” Hinata agrees, shuffling to lay next to him on his back. Kenma won’t turn his attention towards him, but it’s fine.

He opens his mouth to continue, but Kenma speaks up first. “This is what he deserved though. Justice is finally being served. I hope one day he realizes his wrongs. If he doesn’t, he’ll have the rest of his life in chains at the very least.”

“I always knew you and your father were distant, but I had no idea what it was really like…” he trails off.

“Because I didn’t want you to,” Kenma reminds, flipping a page.

“Right,” Hinata says. “But, next time, even if you don’t want me to know, tell me, okay?”

Kenma gives him a puzzled frown. “How could there ever be a next time to this? I only have one father.”

“I mean, when something- or some _one_ is doing something bad, or hurting you. Even if they just frustrate you! Don’t keep all that to yourself, you gotta tell me, or no- it can be anyone! Like Asahi or Oikawa-”

Hinata laughs at the sour expression on Kenma as he speaks Oikawa’s name. “Or Tsukishima! I mean, he might not want to listen, but you do pay him after all, so-”

“I’ll tell you next time,” Kenma assures.

“Good. It’s because I care, you know?” Hinata asks.

Kenma lays the book on his chest. “You’re a good friend, Shouyou. I don’t know if I deserve your kindness, but either way I am grateful.”

Hinata smiles sadly. “You gotta learn to forgive yourself someday too, because I have already. Kenma, you’re my best friend. I know you’d never do anything to intentionally hurt me. It was a bad decision sure, but it doesn't mean that it defines you.”

There’s hesitance in his friend's response. “I will try.”

Hinata folds his hands behind his head and smiles, closing his eyes. “That’s all I can ask!”

Kenma resumes reading and Hinata accidentally falls into a light sleep next to him. He's not sure how much time passes before he wakes up, but Kenma is still reading. While Kenma escorts him to the door, Hinata remembers something.

“I forgot! There’s another thing I want to talk to you about. Are you free later this week?” He asks.

Kenma peers at him. “You’re already here, Shouyou. I’ll listen.”

“Well,” Hinata drops off immediately. There really isn’t an easy way into this one. “It’s time you bring me to the Institute.”

Hinata watches him lower his head to think.

“Okay,” Kenma agrees.

* * *

Kageyama pauses in front of the door, between two guards. He hears a welcoming call from the other side and grasps the handle, entering Hinata’s office. It’s small, decorated with a few pieces of furniture. His gaze travels to the painting hanging on the wall to his right. The woman’s eyes are identical to Hinata’s, he figures in a couple seconds.

“You’re here?” Hinata asks him.

Kageyama’s head snaps towards the King. He’s sitting at the wooden desk, grasping a pen above a piece of parchment. His eye is uncovered like the day of the coronation, revealing a long scar extending from his brow down to the high point of his cheek. The eye itself looks better than it did weeks ago. On one side of the King's desk, a tall stack of papers sits and on the other, a smaller pile. A half-melted candle sits on the corner of the desk and Hinata’s crown is placed next to it.

 _“You_ summoned me,” Kageyama reminds, swinging the door closed behind him.

“I know, but I didn’t think you’d answer so quick! I’m not exactly…ready,” Hinata says, gesturing to the smaller pile of papers. “I have to finish this paperwork or Oikawa is going to wring me out. Seriously, I’ve tried to get out of it, but he always knows if I fall behind! I’ll try to finish it quick, but in the meantime, you can have a seat, or wander the castle if you prefer.”

Kageyama crosses his arms, glancing to the chair. “It’s fine, I’ll stay.”

“Help yourself to wine.”

“I’ll pass,” Kageyama says, taking a seat. Hinata resumes scribbling away at the paper in front of him.

The chair he’s seated in is opposite to the painting. He has a clear view of it now, and takes time to study the portrait. He observes it for a few minutes, then dozes off without much thought. At some point, his head snaps upwards. The candle lit on the corner of the desk is smaller than he remembers.

Kageyama frowns at Hinata, who also seems to have fallen into a slumber, atop of his desk. He walks closer, pausing next to the King.

He clears his throat loudly and Hinata snaps up, squinting sleepily at Kageyama.

“Hey,” he yawns. “Didn’t expect to doze off.”

Kageyama leers. “Get some sleep already, idiot.”

“The paperwork-”

“Is done,” he points to the empty stack he was working on.

“Oh, but what about you?”

Kageyama crosses his arms and looks away. “We can talk another time.”

Hinata draws out a long yawn. “No, it’s fine!” He insists, but his head is growing heavy, blinking half-closed lids. “So…I wanted…”

“Oi,” Kageyama snaps in front of his face.

Hinata blinks up at him, delirious. “Hey. When did you get here?” He asks, glancing at the empty chair.

He really has to resist the urge to punch him. It might not bode too well to go around treating the King so rough. On the other hand, there aren’t any guards around to see him do it, so maybe-

He settles for slapping a hand on Hinata’s head abruptly. Hinata lets out a protest in the form of pained grunts and weak insults, but ultimately stands as Kageyama curls his fingers into his hair and tugs him up.

“Ow! That hurts!” Hinata barks, attempting to throw an elbow at Kageyama. He catches it with his free hand and steers them towards the door. He lets go on Hinata to open the door and shove him roughly out. The guards standing post observe Hinata with surprise, then Kageyama with skepticism.

He ignores them, closing the door roughly behind him. “Where’s your room?” He asks Hinata.

Hinata rubs the top of his head, probably tender from the hair grab. “Top floor,” he mutters.

The walk to Hinata’s room is hushed. Nothing is said beyond the basic pleasantries, which Kageyama is fine with at the moment. He checks on Hinata a couple of times to ensure he isn’t on track to falling asleep on his feet. It’s hard to miss how exhausted he is; his eyes dark from lack of sleep, his slowed reflexes and delayed responses. He has an instinct to criticize Hinata for not taking care of himself, but he’s probably too tired to register anything Kageyama would say anyway.

“You’re staying here tonight?” Hinata asks him in front of his bedroom door.

Kageyama shrugs a shoulder.

“You came all this way. Take a spare room,” he offers, rubbing at his eyes.

“Sure.”

“Remember where the guest wing is?” Hinata asks.

Kageyama’s lack of response is enough of an answer. Hinata grins sleepy, asking one of the guards to escort Kageyama to a free room.

Partway down the hall, Hinata yells at him. “Let’s have breakfast together in the morning. We’ll chat then!”

He glances over his shoulder and nods. Hinata’s smile is easy to spot in the dimly lit hall.

“Night, Kageyama,” he says.

Somewhere inside his stomach, a pair of hands are wringing out his intestines. There’s no other way to describe how unsettle his gut is. Kageyama trains his focus on his feet the rest of the way to the guest room, his cheeks warm.

***

During breakfast, Hinata still appears worn out. A brash comment about his lack of sleep leads to Hinata fixing him with a blank stare. He’s expecting a pinched grimace and maybe an insult in return.

Instead, Hinata peers into his cup of tea. “Oh, I didn’t get much sleep.”

“Why not?”

He shrugs, swallowing a mouthful and setting the cup down. “It’s hard to shut my brain off at times,” He says, smiling oddly enough. Hinata reaches for his cutlery, sizing up the plate in front of him. “Anyway, I’m starving, let’s eat!”

Midway through their meal, Hinata speaks up, around mouthfuls of food. It doesn’t dawn on Kageyama he should have better manners than this. Perhaps because he possesses few table manners himself.

“Have you been busy these past weeks?” Hinata asks.

“Not particularly,” Kageyama answers.

“Bored?”

“Sometimes.”

Hinata smirks, his fork between his lips. It’s too devious for Kageyama’s liking. “Why’s it matter?” He asks.

“Well, if you’re not busy and you want to be, I have a proposal,” Hinata reveals.

“Would you get on with it then?”

Hinata balls his cloth napkin and tosses it at Kageyama. He dodges it easily and glares.

“I want you to train me regularly,” he says.

It takes a few seconds to register the words and Kageyama still tilts his head, confused.

“Train you how?”

“Fighting, of course!” Hinata laughs. “Sort of like our sparring sessions, or overall training tips you can give me for combat. I think it’s a great way for me to improve.”

Kageyama says nothing, focused on his near-empty plate.

“Think about it for now. I’m going on a trip soon, so you have time to decide. And when you return home, I have a message for you to pass along.”

* * *

In his bag, placed next to him in the carriage is an item Hinata has feared to possess essentially since receiving it. Kenma was the one who brought it to him, informing Tsukishima passed it along. Apparently, he wouldn’t reveal to Kenma the details of how he came to acquire the book. He didn’t sound too impressed about it, but Hinata insisted it wasn’t important.

Up until now, he’s kept it tucked away in the drawer of his desk, under stacks of reports and requests and messages. Far enough to be out of sight, but within arms reach should he gain the sudden confidence to crack the spine open.

He hasn’t yet.

But figuring he has time to spare while they ride, he decided to bring the journal. Hinata leers at the bag and abruptly reaches into it, grabbing it. He can do this. It’s merely words on a page, he’ll be fine.

He only makes it past the first two entries before his hands are shaking and he has to close the book. Kenma glimpses at him from the opposite bench.

“Can you read it for me?” Hinata asks.

“I don’t think that is a wise idea,” his friend returns.

***

Travelling is boring. It’s a relief having Kenma alongside him, but it’s hard to stay seated in the carriage for hours upon hours, day after day. Kenma doesn’t seem phased much, already finished two of the books in the pile he brought. Hinata knows he’ll be done the rest by the time they return to the castle. They arrive at nightfall on the fifth day of travel. Hinata steps out of the carriage, muscles stiff from being stationary. The moon gives enough of a glow to show the overall outline of the building.

He’s not sure what he was expecting. It couldn't have been this though.

“It's like some kind of fortress,” Hinata comments.

Kenma hums. “In a way. Instead of nobody getting in, no one is meant to get out.”

“A prison.”

“Yes.”

“Are you ready?” Hinata asks.

Kenma studies his feet. “I have to be, but I’m nervous.”

The outer gate opens, and two people in robes stand in front. “Halt. State your reason for being here,” a man’s voice calls.

“I suggest you mind your words. You are in the presence of the King and the new proprietor of this building,” Kenma returns.

“Where is Lord Kozume?”

Kenma walks towards them. “I am here. We have business to attend to. Are the subjects in their quarters?” He asks, voice clipped. Hinata isn't expecting it.

“Yes,” the man stutters, becoming aware of his mistake.

“Good. All instructors and any other staff are to report to the dining area until further notice,” Kenma orders. He peers over his shoulder at Hinata, “Follow me, Shouyou,” he says.

The guards- are they guards? They aren’t wearing armour, so he thinks they’re mages- they bow their heads and issue for the inner gate to be opened.

During their planning of the trip, Kenma told him they will encounter other dark mages. The staff there are all people who were once a student of the Institute. Only a few ever remain to stay in the building and teach new children brought in, the rest sent to various corners of the land to serve Lords, both domestic and foreign.

“They are trained to respond to authority,” Kenma had told him. “I doubt they will be an issue.”

He believes it, now that he’s seeing it. A small group of his guards stay close, while the rest occupy the front gates and rest.

The visit is something Hinata will remember for the rest of his life, whether he wants to or not.

* * *

“Tobio?”

Kageyama turns around, pausing in securing the saddle to his horse. Sugawara stands behind him, holding a basket of herbs he pruned from his garden. “I wondered if we could talk,” he continues.

“About what?”

Sugawara’s gaze shifts briefly. “The King and your new...arrangements.”

Kageyama tries not to stiffen, but there is something knowing in Sugawara’s tone. He’s not sure why, but it unnerves him. “Okay.”

Sugawara inhales. “So, here's the thing,” he stops, pursing his lips and considering his words. “I'm trying to-” he sighs, bringing his free hand to settle on his head. “Ugh, I don’t know what I’m saying!”

Kageyama doesn’t have the slightest of clues either, gripping his reins uncomfortably. His tone suggests he’s about to get a lecture, but Sugawara isn’t angry. Is he?

“Is there something you want me to pass along?” He asks.

Sugawara lowers his hand, shaking his head. “Never mind, it’s nothing,” he insists.

Kageyama shrugs, mounting his horse.

“You have water?” Sugawara asks.

“Yea.”

“Extra clothes.”

“Mhm.”

“A map in case you get lost?”

Kageyama shoots him a look.

Sugawara smirks. “Just making sure you were listening.”

Kageyama furrows his brows and Sugawara sighs, getting serious. “Tobio, I know you-”

“Sugawara-san, I apologize for interrupting,” Akaashi cuts in, rounding the corner. “Your bread was burning, so I took it out of the oven.”

Sugawara visibly flinches. “I completely forgot! Oh no, how bad is it!?” He asks, running towards the fort without giving Akaashi a chance to answer. He stops at the corner, turning around and waving at Kageyama.

“Be safe, don’t do anything-”

“Don’t say reckless,” Kageyama interrupts.

Sugawara smiles. “See you in a few days. Tell everyone we say hi.”

Kageyama nods, saying a quick goodbye to Akaashi and beginning past the treeline into the forest.

* * *

Hinata takes a moment to clear his mind, closing his eyes and cycling through a few deep breaths. His back and legs are stiff from sitting in the throne for so long. He’s pretty sure the circulation in his feet is nonexistent. Wiggling his toes, they’re numb and tingle uncomfortably.

A man calls for the next person in line. Footsteps approach and Hinata readies himself, sitting tall and staring at the man who kneels in front of him. He’s dressed in an old leather coat, worn dark trousers and leather boots.

“You may rise,” Hinata instructs. The man stands and as he lifts his head, he stares directly at Hinata.

“Yer Highness. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he drawls.

Hinata offers a smile, a little off put by his cheekiness for some reason. “The pleasure is mine. What brings you here?”

The man grins, baring teeth in his amusement. “I came to find out if the rumours about you are true.”

Hinata’s cocks his head to the side, unsure as to what he's getting at.

“You waited in a line of civilian complaints to discuss rumours?” Oikawa injects from Hinata’s side, a distasteful bite in his tone.

The man’s attention falls on Oikawa, and his grin does not show signs of letting up. “Lord Oikawa, you don’t remember me, huh? It hasn’t been long either, y’know!”

Glancing up at his adviser, Oikawa is growing more and more skeptical by the second.

Hinata leans forward in his throne. “Did you two used to be friends?” He asks curiously.

The man smiles. “I’ve had recent experience working for Lord Oikawa.”

Judging by the slanted glower, something clicks for Oikawa.

“Oh? What kind of work?” Hinata asks.

The man opens his mouth, but Oikawa cuts over him. “The details are unimportant. State your reason for being here,” he clips.

“Yer Highness. I’m not here to complain, or ask for restitution for recent damages. I’m here, to check on you.”

Hinata’s brows furrow. “Pardon?”

The man takes a step froward, and on the other side of Hinata, Asahi does as well. The man takes the warning, pausing in his tracks. Hinata murmurs for Asahi to stand down and the man continues forward, taking a couple steps closer.

“These past months must have been troubling for you, what with everything that’s happened. I can’t pretend to understand what it’s been like, but I have an idea it’s anything but pleasant. And now, havin’ to be responsible for all of this aftermath?” The man waves a hand to the crowd of people behind him. He places his hands on his hips, tall and proud. "Well, you must be stressed. Am I right?” The man asks.

“You don’t have to answer him, Your Highness,” Oikawa leers.

Hinata sighs. “I must admit. There are difficult days, however, such is the duty of a King. I thank you for your concern, but I am in good health. I assure you.”

The man waves his hands. “Of course! Never meant to imply anything, just statin’ observations. Anyhow, I also came by the castle to extend an invitation. I’m sure yer busy, runnin’ the land and all-”

“An invitation?” Hinata repeats, intrigued.

The man takes a couple steps closer, lowering his voice. “A birdie told me yer fond of the fighting arenas in the south. You must’ve seen me fight once or twice, yea?” He winks.

Clarity strikes and Hinata’s straightens in his throne, perking up. “Ah! You’re one of the Miya twins, aren’t you?” He asks.

“Yer Highness, I’m flattered you know of me,” the man coos.

It would be hard not to. Hinata doesn’t often watch group tournaments, preferring one on one fights. It’s easier for him to have one engagement to learn from, rather than a whole pit of people fighting. Despite this, you would have to have your head in the sand to have never heard of the Miya twins in the arena. They’re known for their synchronous fighting style, moving as if they are tethered to a central unit and commanding attacks identically.

Hinata is nearly on the edge of his throne. “I can’t believe I didn’t figure it out sooner, but I’ve never met you up close! I’m afraid I haven’t learned to tell the two of you apart. You look so alike.”

The man laughs. “You wouldn’t be the first. I’m Atsumu, the handsomer of the two.”

He hears a small sound of disgust from Oikawa.

“Anytime you’re free, pay another visit. Better yet,” Atsumu pauses, pulling out parchment from his pocket and holding it out to Hinata. Oikawa steps forward reluctantly, snatching it from the man. “Try to make this one. We don’t have ‘em as often these days, so it’s gonna be big. It’ll be a helluva tournament.”

* * *

Kageyama is what you might call a monster.

He is insanely skilled as a fighter. This is not exactly new information to Hinata, as he’s known since the day he saw him in the arena.

But to be up against it first hand, repeatedly throughout training, truly gives him an appreciation for his skills. Hinata has practiced against him using multiple different training weapons; swords, lances and axes. Each weapon Kageyama rotates through is operated flawlessly, as though he’s been wielding them since the day he was born. It’s as if he has a different fighting style depending on the weapon he uses as well. Hinata still hasn’t been able to successfully counter the patterns in his movements, but overall, he can tell he’s anticipating and reacting quick enough to avoid attacks. It’s only been a few weeks of training, too. Kageyama has agreed to stay anywhere from one to three nights a week, training Hinata at night when he is excused from his duties for the day.

They bicker between rounds, usually stemming from Kageyama’s harsh critiques of his form. Hinata doesn’t care about being called a moron or an idiot by a mercenary, it’s that he sucks at telling Hinata how to improve. His ability to translate his instinctive movement into words leaves Hinata confused, frustrated, sometimes both. And when the guy gets his blood boiling and Hinata has a practice sword clenched in his hand, of course he will go in for another fight. To date, he has not won a single spar off Kageyama.

Most nights, there's a period of calmness after training. Into the late hours, they’ll both lay on their backs, sometimes close and others distanced. It’s the moments of post sparring where Hinata’s head is the clearest.

One night, Kageyama is laying across the training yard from him, limbs sprawled. “How have you been sleeping recently?”

“Better,” Hinata answers without much thought. “Especially the nights we train. I sleep like a baby.”

Kageyama releases a thoughtful hum. “Maybe we should train more often,” he suggests.

Hinata sits up, alerted by the suggestion. His silence garners the tilt of Kageyama’s head and their gazes meet.

A pop of a spark excites under his skin. He doesn’t think Kageyama is toying with him.

“Yea, I'd like that.”

* * *

Hinata sets the journal down, his hands shaking as he tucks the book away in its hiding place. He steps outside to the balcony for some fresh air, taking deep breaths and folding his arms onto the railing. The cool, night air is somewhat of a relief, but it does little to settle Hinata’s frantically beating heart.

There’s one entry of the journal left. The others, he’s read at least twice. A couple of his favourites have been memorized. And yet, he can’t bring himself to read the final entry. Doing so would mean there’s nothing left to discover about his family. Reading the entries has been tough and challenging, but it had provided him with so many details about his family he’d never known. It gives him a way to truly understand his father. He’s not sure he agrees with some of the choices he made, but he realizes his father's actions were bred of fear, not of anger or hate. It's a small bout of relief.

Hinata groans, dropping his forehead into his arms. He doesn’t want to think about this, or anything else castle related. Breaking away from the balcony, Hinata marches into his room, and out the door in quick strides. He brings a stiff hand up to the guards outside his room who try to escort him, commanding them to stay.

He receives curious and bewildered expressions at the gates, but no protest is given to his request for the gates to be opened. Hinata makes quick work of the streets, arriving to a large estate in the east. He is welcomed inside by a servant and it’s how he ends up sitting across from Oikawa.

“You’re the only one who can join me,” he pleads. It's true; Kageyama has returned to his home for a few days. Asahi would be reluctant to go, and probably only agree because he's obligated to. There's no way Kenma would be coerced into sitting in the arena with that much chaos.

“Is that so?” Oikawa asks disinterestedly.

“I know it would be dumb for me to go all on my own, but I don’t want a bunch of guards surrounding me.”

“I will not stand in a crowd packed full of people,” his advisor clips back.

“We can find a secluded spot high in the stands.”

Oikawa holds his skepticism a few seconds longer then stands up, exhaling. “Fine. We’re not walking though.”

***

Word was clearly put out the King would be attending the tournament. Hinata is led to believe this judging by the welcome they receive as soon as the carriage opens. Oikawa gives him a warning look and Hinata shrugs in response, insisting they probably could have snuck in unnoticed if they didn’t show up in such a fancy carriage. A second, less-kempt look was given to him, and Hinata was wise enough to shut his mouth while they were led to a section in the stands close to the ring. They are seated atop of a raised platform Hinata knows wasn’t here the last time he visited. 

Oikawa is at least satisfied they have their own private space among the crowd. He sits next to Hinata, elbow resting on the arm of the chair and his closed fist supporting his head. Hinata isn’t too worried; the first time they showed up he started off the same way.

Witnessing the beginning of the tournament, Hinata comes to realize he’s missed coming to the arenas. There are a lot of fighters Hinata doesn’t recognize, intriguing him as the rounds progress. Atsumu appears in one of the preliminary fights, and receives a very warm welcome from the crowd. Hinata finds himself getting drawn into his fighting style.

Hours later and several drinks consumed leads to Oikawa getting equally as enthralled as Hinata in the final rounds. The loser goes down and Hinata cannot say he’s surprised.

“Who do you think is going to win it?” He asks Oikawa as the ring prepares for the final match.

“Doesn’t matter. I won’t like either outcome,” Oikawa sneers and crosses his arms.

Hinata chuckles as the last of his ale goes down. “It’s weird, but I have a good feeling about Atsumu.”

“I have anything but that feeling towards him.”

Hinata opens his mouth to retort and is overpowered by the cheers of the crowd. Atsumu walks out of one tunnel and Ushijima the other. Both of them have their weapons drawn.

Hinata could leap out of his seat, he’s so excited! Oikawa can jab all he wants, but he notices in his peripheral how his advisor straightens himself up, already watching intently.

True to his predication, Atsumu comes out the victor of the battle. It goes locked in as one of the best fights Hinata has ever witnessed, and brings him to his feet, clapping for Atsumu’s victory. Turning around in a circle and waving to the cheering spectators, Atsumu spots Hinata on the podium. He smiles though he limps, stepping forward towards the edge of the ring, in front of the platform.

Atsumu stops, his head tilted to gaze up. A nasty bruise is forming on his left cheek, a cut into his right bicep stains his shirt, and there are probably a lot of other injuries he carries. Though he's the victor, he isn’t walking out in pristine condition.

Atsumu tosses his stained halberd to the ground, dropping into a kneel in front of the King. Hinata steps towards the edge of the platform, reaching up to his chest and unfastening the small, gold sun crest brooch pinned to his clothes. Atsumu lifts his head, and his smile turns caught off guard as Hinata motions for him to stand. He does, and follows the trajectory of the brooch thrown his way. He reaches a hand out and catches it, examining the brooch for a couple seconds before smirking his big, victorious grin and tucking it in his pocket. He picks up his halberd and continues to feed the fire of the excited crowd, waving to the people in the stands.

* * *

The first time Kageyama loses a fight to Hinata is a big deal, and for more than one reason.

There is the blatant explanation for this, given that up until now, Hinata has always had his ass handed to him. There have been a couple of close instances where Hinata thought he had the upper hand on him, only to suffer a quick counter, or a foot kicking his legs from beneath him and toppling him over. Kageyama ultimately comes up the winner, and for good reason. Until now.

It is easy to understand why Hinata is excited. At first, all he does is blink. At the edge of his training sword pointed at Kageyama’s neck, then to the other sword he disarmed from him seconds ago.

Then realization finally translates into his features and Hinata pulls away, releasing an amused sound. “I…I beat you!” He cries, almost disbelievingly.

Kageyama remains quiet, his eyes narrowing slightly. Hinata pumps an arm in the air, cheering for himself. “I can’t believe this!”

“Talk about a fluke,” Kageyama mutters.

Normally, Hinata would’ve jumped on the taunt, but he is obviously too elated about his victory to care. “Jackass,” Hinata fires back, grinning all the while.

As a reward, Kageyama gives him three losses in a row.

The last spar has Kageyama tripping Hinata, who snags his ankle with sharp reflexes and also brings him down. They struggle for dominance and grapple, but Kageyama's larger frame gives a clear advantage and allows him to push Hinata onto his back. He pins Hinata down, leaning perpendicular overtop his chest; One arm is between his legs, hooked around Hinata’s thigh and the other locks under his armpit. The position leaves Hinata no ability to move and he pats Kageyama’s arm with a grunt of defeat.

He eases his weight off, feeling Hinata’s ribcage rise in a deep breath. Kageyama loosens the tangle of their limbs and before his can rise, a hand grabs the collar of his shirt and tugs.

Kageyama is about to question what he’s doing, but turning to Hinata he is stunned by their proximity. Hinata has his head raised, just a few inches in from of him.

He’s seen this sort of look. It’s hard for Kageyama to put into words, but it’s warm. It’s the one Daichi and Sugawara share, when they’re about to-

Hinata leans forward and presses their lips together.

Something gut-wrenching hits Kageyama tenfold. He gasps into their kiss, but leans into it.

***

Neither of them mentions the next day. Or the day after. If Hinata, the most comfortable person he’s ever met can’t find a way to spring it up, talking about it would be virtually impossible for Kageyama. And so, training continues as normal, though it's anything but. There are instances, sometime during training and others during resting, where Kageyama recalls their kiss. Doing so summons the knots in his belly. It brings about urges inside of Kageyama that are messing with him. He wants to touch Hinata; to bring him close and kiss him again. 

One night, Hinata tells him their time practicing will be cut short. He explains to Kageyama he is attending another tournament in the south arena, and extends an invite for him to join. Reluctantly, Kageyama agrees, and it’s how he ends up sitting next to Hinata on a podium in front of the ring. In the lead up to the matches, Hinata has explained the reigning champ is set to collecting his fourth consecutive championship.

Needless to say, Kageyama is intrigued by the fighter. More so as he watches his first match. The guy is very clearly a skilled fighter, taking down his opponents with clean, calculated movements. All the way down to his footwork, the man called Atsumu executes his fighting flawlessly.

Kageyama's perspective takes a drastic turn when Atsumu clears the tournament, securing his fourth championship and it happens very quick.

Atsumu pauses in waving to the cheering fans, reaching into his pocket. Kageyama doesn’t think much of it, until he’s pinching something small in his fingers and turning towards the podium. It's hard to tell what it is, but Atsumu is staring directly at Hinata with the item pressed to his lips.

Kageyama can’t say he likes the smugness on his face, all the way from his seat.

Hinata turns to Oikawa, a playful smile on his face. “I think he likes me,” he teases.

“Oh, you don’t say?” Oikawa taunts, arms crossed. It’s assuring someone else doesn’t like the guy either, even if he and Oikawa aren’t more than forced acquaintances.

Kageyama stays silent, his scowl speaking for itself.

* * *

One night of training, no different than another, Hinata is sloppy. He knows, and he knows Kageyama knows too. The first couple of mistakes, he’s given a scowl and a glare, but as it becomes apparent Hinata is consistently screwing up, Kageyama grows vocal.

“You suck tonight,” he points out.

Tonight, he doesn’t have the energy for the bickering and so he gets defensive. “I know, okay!?” Hinata yells.

Kageyama doesn’t seem to be expecting the outburst, nor the way Hinata crosses his arms and turns away.

“Are you injured?” He hears Kageyama ask.

Hinata sighs. “No, I-” he stops himself, bending down to pick up his fallen sword. He can’t raise his head. “I’m sorry. I’m done training for the night.”

He walks towards the training armoury, putting the sword in place on the racks.

“Hinata,” Kageyama calls behind him.

His shoulders sag. He really doesn’t want to get chewed out.

“You can talk,” Kageyama gets out, almost painfully. There’s a pause. “To me.”

Hinata smiles thinly, turning around. “I finished the journal today,” he admits.

Kageyama hums in acknowledgement. In one of their post-training discussions, Hinata mentioned the journal. Not any explicit details, but enough to indicate reading it has been a bittersweet experience for him.

“Did you get your answers?” Kageyama asks.

“Hm?” Hinata asks.

“You mentioned you hoped the journal would give you information about your mom.”

“Oh,” Hinata reflects, remembering the piece of their conversation. “Right.”

He’s not sure what to say at first. Does he explain everything? Would it be wise to allow others into his family’s secret?

“Yea. I did. In a way, it’s like I got to find out who she was. I wish I could have met her myself though,” he smiles sadly. “She was pretty cool.”

Kageyama steps closer, stopping in front of Hinata. A hand claps down aggressively on his shoulder and Hinata squeaks in surprise.

“Hey, that hurts!” He cries, stepping back.

Kageyama retracts his hand, offended like _he’s_ the one who got manhandled. “It’s supposed to be comforting,” he insists lowly.

Hinata rubs his shoulder. “Well, try something with less force!” He retorts.

Without a word in return, Kageyama steps forward. Both his arms wrap around Hinata; one hand over his shoulders, the other around his middle. It rouses a sudden, fierce sensation in Hinata’s chest and he mashes his lips together, dropping his head down into Kageyama’s shoulder to hide his tears.

***

Hinata doesn't justify himself the luxury of attending another tournament for awhile. He’s pretty sure Oikawa allows it without an argument only because his birthday is around the corner. Hinata takes the lucky opportunity and invites Kageyama. The mercenary declines his offer, offhandedly mentioning he has to return to the fort after training. It’s odd, because Kageyama rarely has things to attend to, but he could have business with the other mercenaries. Instead, Hinata brings a reluctant Asahi and enthusiastic Nishinoya along with him.

Noya is excited during the fights. He matches Hinata’s enthusiasm for the rounds, yelling and cheering along with the crowd. Asahi on the other hand is a little apprehensive, but insists he’s having a good time. Hinata starts to believe it once the knight has consumed a few drinks and loosens up. He asks Hinata about a few of the fighters, to which he happily explains their fighting backgrounds and standings in previous tournaments.

All is going well. The last preliminary match is about to unfold and Hinata takes a sip of his ale while the fighters emerge from the opposing tunnels.

Upon sight of one of the men, Hinata promptly chokes on the mouthful, spitting most of it out and hacking.

“Is that…” Asahi trails off.

“Hey, you didn’t tell us Kageyama entered the tournament!” Noya exclaims, patting Hinata's back as he regains himself, still coughing.

“He never told me,” he answers, getting a weird, unsettled pit in his gut. Why didn’t he?

Kageyama doesn’t turn his head in the direction of the podium, but Hinata knows he’s aware of his presence. He told him he was coming here, after all. It adds to the doubt, and the further questions he’s asking himself. What’s going on? Why is he finding out about this now? Why is he fighting in the tournament?

No answers magically materialize, so his only choice is to watch Kageyama clear the round quick. He moves up the ranks as he did the first time Hinata saw him.

“He’s a crazy fighter,” Nishinoya murmurs, crossing his arms over his chest as Kageyama claims his win and secures a slot in the final round. “He moves fluid, but strong.”

Asahi hums in agreement. “I bet he could make a Royal Guard.”

“Oh, for sure!” Nishinoya exclaims. “Hard to picture him moving so quick is a bunch of armour though.”

“He prefers nothing heavy,” Hinata echoes. “Says speed is important over bulky defense.”

In the other semi-final, Atsumu faces Ushijima and suffers a loss, thus bringing his streak to an end. Hinata should have been invested in such a turn of events, like the crowd letting out a collected groan as Atsumu admits defeat. Instead, he simply takes a hefty drink as the ring is cleared Kageyama and Ushijima ready themselves for the final round.

“He's as tall as a building!” Noya insists.

“Oh, I’m worried for Kageyama,” Asahi breathes out, a hand pressed to his chest.

“He’ll be fine, Asahi! Shouyou said Kageyama beat him last time, right?” Noya asks, nudging Hinata’s shoulder.

He looks up, smiling in reassurance. “Yea.”

***

Hinata visibly flinches as Kageyama is knocked out cold, rendering Ushijima the victor. His body hits the ground in a frigid thud and Hinata’s fists ball tight while healers rush to him. The crowd is cheering, Ushijima’s devoted fans happily rejoicing in their fallen champion’s victory. Hinata is passive and unspeaking, focusing on Kageyama being carried through one of the tunnels.

“That was a lot to watch,” Asahi murmurs. Ushijima is reclaiming the several weapons Kageyama disarmed from him throughout the fight.

Noya is equally as shocked. “I guess evenly matched fighters won’t always produce the same results,” he suggests.

Hinata raises to his feet, walking to the edge of the platform and staring at Ushijima who kneels for him. The champion retreats to his tunnel to claim his victory and Hinata spares a glance over his shoulder. Both Asahi and Nishinoya appear uncertain. Maybe it’s because he hasn’t said anything yet. And so, he rolls with it, removing his crown and tossing it at Asahi, who fumbles trying to catch it.

“I’ll be a moment,” Hinata nods to Nishinoya, before abruptly leaping from the edge of the podium into the ring. He’s sure Asahi’s panicked wheeze is what he just heard, followed by a couple startled voiced in the stands. Hinata pays it no mind, running towards the tunnel Kageyama was brought through.

On the other side, Hinata is met with a group of injured fighters being tended to. He spots Kageyama laying on a makeshift cot in one of the corners, starting towards him. He could still be unconscious, but Hinata realizes he’s speaking quietly to the healer tending to a gash on his arm. Hinata takes a breath to cool his head, knowing he'll implode the second he opens his mouth if he doesn't.

Kageyama notices him across the room though. A sort of chain reaction incites inside of Hinata; they stare at each other, Hinata steps forward, weaving around the injured and stops in front of Kageyama. His emotions are battling against another. Worry, sadness, frustration and some relief. The combination of all of them renders Hinata into a passive state. What he thinks is going to be anger comes out in a cool, calm voice.

“Why didn’t you tell me you entered the tournament, Kageyama?”

What colour is in Kageyama’s face leeches away. He swallows, the shift of his windpipe caught by Hinata. To his credit, he doesn’t break his gaze. He also doesn’t say anything either.

Hinata offers a small smile to the healer. “I’m sure another fighter could use your help.”

The healer excuses themselves, bowing their head, shuffling away and probably thankful for it.

“Well? You didn’t answer me,” Hinata continues, pining his unflinching stare unto Kageyama.

Kageyama’s is meek, oddly enough. “I didn’t think it was important,” he says.

Like a tick somewhere behind his neck, Hinata senses the anger about to boil over. He needs them to go, and as soon as possible.

He hauls Kageyama into a sitting position. “Stand. We’re returning to the castle.”

Kageyama blinks blearily at him and had Hinata not been caged inside this strange, serene sort of mad state, he would be remorseful for roughing him around. Kageyama works to stand, unbalanced on his feet like a newborn fawn.

“Yer Highness!” A voice calls from behind. Hinata turns to the familiar sound, watching Atsumu approach. His left arm is in a sling, and he sports several bandages over his body, plus a newly-forming black eye. “Glad you came out again. Sorry I couldn’t grab that seventh win in a row. Woulda been a new-”

Though his sentence stops, Atsumu’s lips remain parted. Suddenly he's apprehensive, taking in Hinata's demeanor. He didn’t think someone like Atsumu would lose his confidence so quick. Is he really this intimidating without realizing? 

“Atsumu,” Hinata greets finally. “I apologize, but Kageyama and I have somewhere to be,” he informs him without blinking.

Atsumu smiles sheepish. “Aw, really? I was hopin’ to have a word!”

Hinata says nothing, letting his expression do the work for him. Atsumu ruffles the back of his head with his uninjured arm. “Sorry, didn’t mean’ta overstep or nothin’,” he amends.

His words crack a dent through the false-nicety façade Hinata tries to maintain. He nestles himself around Kageyama, looping the man's arm over his shoulders. “If it’s important, come visit me at the castle sometime. Dinner, next week?” He suggests.

Atsumu blinks, stunned a moment. “Uh, yes!” He agrees.

Hinata guides Kageyama towards one of the exits, noticing Kageyama is bleeding onto his clothes. “Wonderful, I’ll have someone send for you the day of,” Hinata says, asking a close by person to open the door for them.

* * *

“Did Atsumu just get asked on a fucking date by the King?”

That sounded suspiciously like Suna.

“Aw, don’t sound so jealous,” Atsumu coos, earning a few cackles from the others in the room.

* * *

The carriage ride to the castle is silent, save for the sounds of the wheels rolling and the horse’s hooves clicking on stone. The goodbyes to Asahi and Noya upon arriving to the castle are quick and simple. Hinata attaches himself to Kageyama once he’s out of the carriage, commanding his servants to leave him when they try to take Kageyama from his grasp. He gives out a few simple requests and leads Kageyama upstairs. It’s a long trek, but it gives time for Kageyama’s head to clear. His arm still hurts and he’s sure he’s cracked a rib or two.

Hinata doesn’t address him until they’re alone in a guest room. He has a chair pulled up to the side of the bed Kageyama sits upon.

If Kageyama knew what to say, he’d speak the perfect words which would solve this issue and get rid of this weird tension. But he lacks such information and he’s not willing to test Hinata, instead keeping his mouth shut. Somehow, the short, unintimidating moron turned into someone powerful and downright _frightening_ and he has barely spoken a word doing so. He’s holding power over Kageyama so easily and he doesn’t know if it’s a good thing or not.

A knock comes to the door. Hinata asserts permission and directs the servant to place the tray on the side table. His voice has lost the creepy tones, but he’s still very resigned compared to his lively babbling. The servant bows their head at Hinata's thanks and leaves.

“Remove your shirt,” he commands Kageyama.

Getting his shirt passed his abdomen proves to be hard on his arm. Kageyama stiffens as gentle fingers help snug the fabric off of him and occasionally brush against his skin. His shirt sticks to his arm where the wound is, saturated in dark blood stains. Hinata peels it off carefully and discards the shirt to the side.

He surveys the wound, then shakes his head.

“If you have something to say, then say it,” Kageyama challenges.

“You were showing off tonight,” Hinata comments.

He’s not expecting it. “What?”

Hinata begins cleaning the wound with a damp cloth. “Big dramatic moves, taunting your opponents….” He lists. “You weren’t fighting like you normally do.”

Kageyama huffs in response.

Hinata places a topical on his wound. Kageyama tries to do nothing more than go stiff at the burning.

“I know it hurts. I hate this stuff,” Hinata murmurs. Kageyama watches him work and their eyes meet briefly. He concentrates elsewhere in the room and his heart returns to a steady rate.

“I recall you saying Sugawara got mad finding out you were in the tournament the first time,” Hinata says.

Kageyama frowns. “I can make my own decisions,” he assures.

Hinata cocks a brow as he wraps his arm in a bandage. “You wouldn’t be saying that if he was here right now.”

The frown festers into a scowl.

“Why’d you enter? Not like you need the gold,” Hinata shrugs.

“Because I felt like it.”

Hinata ties the bandage off tighter than it needs to be. He sits back in his chair, crossing his arms. “You’re being awfully vague tonight, what’s your deal!?”

Hot, prickling tingles erupt beneath the skin of Kageyama’s palms. Nerves, he realizes. He’s nervous he’s getting called out, and truthfully so. At least Hinata isn’t going into his possessed-like state again, instead getting frustrated.

Denial is much easier for Kageyama though.

“Nothing, idiot!” He shouts.

Hinata snatches the cloth from the bowl and wrings it out. He cleans off a shallow cut on Kageyama’s forearm next. It’s not worth wrapping in Kageyama’s opinion, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t find comfort in watching Hinata tend to the area delicately.

He peers at Kageyama, like he knows he’s thinking about him. “Tell me why you’re acting weird,” he insists stubbornly.

Well, if denial won’t work, then redirection could be in his favour. “What about you!?” Kageyama asks.

Hinata pauses, shock in his response. “Me? What did I do!?”

“People think you play favourites with the Miya guy. He hasn’t fought in a group tournament since you’ve started noticing him,” Kageyama seethes out.

“Favourites?” Hinata repeats. It's a bit of a stretch.

For some reason, Kageyama can’t stop now. “He parades around that sun crest ornament, claiming you gave it to him for winning a championship.”

“It was a gift of good gesture!” Hinata insists. “He invited me to the tournament, and I thought he was going to sell it, honest!”

Kageyama’s eye is twitching, he can feel it.

“Why are you mad? What, you want me to give you something from your previous win?” Hinata asks incredulously.

“Of course not,” Kageyama huffs, turning his nose up.

There’s silence. Hinata’s voice comes, hesitant. “Are you…jealous?”

Kageyama stiffens. He’s tempted to grab Hinata by the hair and launch him on the other side of the room and he gets close, balling a fistful of his hair in his hand. Then, their gazes meet and it spirals Kageyama’s mental compass in frantic circles, causing him to loosen his grip. He can tell- just by the familiar look in Hinata’s eyes what's about to happen. He knows it because its all he’s been thinking about lately. Kageyama gladly accepts the frenzy Hinata’s lips brings him the second they press to his own.

Hinata pulls away, but Kageyama leans forward to close the gap. Between several kisses, he separates long enough to say, “No.”

Hinata laughs against his lips. As the kisses grow plenty, the restlessness inside of Kageyama continues to build. They shift closer together, becoming daring. Lips part and tongues meet, sending a thrill down Kageyama’s spine. Hinata releases a small sound and Kageyama inhales through his nose. They break away and Hinata joins him on the bed, tugging Kageyama further onto the mattress. He allows Hinata to lie him down on his side, keeping his weight off the injured arm. Hinata eases himself comfortably close across from him, smiling.

Kageyama finds the side of his mouth curling up too. Maybe it’s because his head is still reeling from all the exciting, new sensations he's experiencing. Or, Hinata’s warmth is damn contagious.

Hinata places a hand on his chest, hot on his skin. He leans close, pausing inches away from Kageyama’s lips. “You were jealous.”

Kageyama could fall for the bait, deny it all he wants and get into a bickering match with Hinata. It would mean a temporary halt or complete stop to their actions and it doesn’t take much rationalizing in his head to decide which of the two options is better.

He’s still not admitting anything, or fighting the scowl on his face. Instead, he tilts his head to kiss Hinata. It works as a good middle ground for now, and Hinata presses himself close to Kageyama’s body. One of his legs raises to hook around Kageyama’s abdomen and he slowly rolls him onto his back. Now Kageyama’s uninjured arm is free and he’s able to slot his hand behind Hinata’s head to deepen their kisses.

A bent leg on both sides of his hips and his arms next to Kageyama’s head, Hinata has him caged in. Not by physical force, rather something invisible that commands every inch of him. What’s most surprising is the realization of this idea brings Kageyama a spike of satisfaction. Hinata leans over top of him like this and plants kisses from his mouth down to his jaw. He travels lightly across his neck, and Kageyama reels in the pleasure it brings. He likes it, and he wants more.

Hinata’s hands wander across his abdomen, and he pauses in his kissing to raise his head. “Can I take those off?” He asks, motioning to his trousers.

It feels raw and vulnerable, to ask so blatantly. Kageyama shuts his eyes, but his head still spins. He doesn’t think there’s ever come a time he’s been so turned on like this.

“Only if you take yours off too,” he grits out, face heating.

“Deal,” Hinata agrees easy, raising himself and beginning to untie his doublet. His fingers work nimbly, unfastening the garment and stripping it from his body. Underneath, a fitted white shirt. It’s shed quicker than the doublet and having the full view of it all leaves Kageyama forgetting to breathe momentarily.

“Come here,” Kageyama demands. He sits up, wrapping a hand behind Hinata’s neck and bringing him forward to kiss him. He’s a bit rough in his actions, he can tell. It’s because he can’t think straight. He can’t do much else other than feed his and Hinata's desires further.

Hinata hums, placing a hand on Kageyama’s shoulder to steady himself. He eases them down so Kageyama lays on his back, then sits up to resume undressing. Kageyama nearly interrupts him a second time, his fingers twitching impatiently as Hinata sheds his clothing. He’s not shy about it, discarding the trousers over the edge of the bed and climbing on top of Kageyama. Up close though, he can recognize the red tint in his cheeks and it eases his own nerves.

Kageyama lifts his hips to help Hinata remove his pants next. Hinata’s downturned fixation doesn’t go unnoticed and he frowns. “Stop that.”

Hinata raises his head and the blank expression he wears stuns Kageyama long enough for him to be caught off guard by Hinata suddenly launching forward onto him. He grabs Kageyama's face using both hands and kisses him. He bears a new burst of energy, something Kageyama is fevering for.

Hinata lowers himself onto Kageyama. The skin on skin contact is warm, and thrilling. He runs a hand up Hinata’s back and stifles a groan as their hips align and Hinata rolls into him. His body reacts urgently, a weak sound coming out and his erection twitching against Hinata’s. The thought alone is enough to fog his mind out further, and Kageyama tightens his hold on Hinata, bracing the intensity of the pleasure.

Raising his hips enough for Kageyama to practically growl at the loss of contact, he’s amended quick by Hinata's hand curling around him.

"Kageyama," Hinata says, a hint of breathlessness in his voice. “Seeing you fight is cool. You’re so good-” Kageyama’s toes curl, oddly enough. “And strong. But tonight,” he pauses because Kageyama drags him into a kiss to shut him up. What’s he doing, trying have a conversation like this?

Hinata pulls apart, eyes hooded and lust-filled. “I was also scared, seeing you hurt. It made me realize no one, not even the King of Combat is invincible,” he continues, wrist flicking and picking up in pace.

“Don’t call me that while we’re-!” Kageyama hisses, almost cramping up from the sudden pressure inside him. He moans and Hinata kisses him raw, tongue laced with his own. A second spike, coming deep in his core and making him clench his teeth, gives a final threat.

“Hinata,” he warns.

As if to dismiss him completely, the hand around him tightens. The pad of Hinata’s thumb massages over the slit of his head, flooding wetness onto his finger. Kageyama rolls his hips into the touch. His body is tensing, from the knots in his calves to the clenching in his stomach and the way he grits his teeth. He’s being wound tighter and tighter, bringing him to a point where there’s nothing left to give. But Hinata pushes him anyway, and Kageyama is ruined.

His chin tilts up and he plummets over the edge. Hinata's lips are on his own, muffling the sound. Kageyama’s hips tremble as he comes down, overstimulated by Hinata’s hand riding him out. Hinata peppers him in chaste kisses, slowing his rhythm down and releasing his grip.

Heart still racing and panting lightly, Kageyama reaches a hand down to Hinata’s hips. Hinata raises onto his knees, smiling. “Want to try something else?”

“What is it?” Kageyama asks, intrigued.

Now, Hinata speaks apprehensively. “You can put your mouth… on me,” he suggests.

Kageyama contemplates for a grand total of two seconds and shrugs, giving Hinata a shove which topples him easily. He looks pained by the realization of how light he is, tumbling onto his back and bouncing on the mattress. Kageyama nestles himself on his belly between Hinata’s legs and readies himself, but Hinata grabs his head with both hands before he lowers.

“Wait!” Hinata cries, slightly mortified. “You have to ease into it and be gentle, okay?” He instructs.

Kageyama nods, only a little since his movements are currently restricted.

“Start off by kissing the area around,” Hinata stutters, freeing his head. Kageyama maintains a hesitant stare while placing a soft kiss to the inside of his thigh.

Hinata gives a small nod and so, Kageyama continues. His moves closer to his hips in chaste kisses, pausing once or twice to roll his tongue over his skin. Hinata fingers through his hair, sighing pleasantly.

“Take it slow and watch your teeth,” Hinata adds.

A sudden thought strikes Kageyama as he dips towards his pelvis. He lifts his head, curiously observing Hinata. “How do you know all this?”

“My advisor has the mouth of a sailor. He spares _zero_ details,” Hinata answers with a huff.

It’s probably the best answer he could have hoped for. Moving carefully as told, Kageyama kisses the area next to the base of his erection. The muscle twitches involuntary against the side of his face and Kageyama angles a kiss to the shaft. Hinata sucks in a small breath, giving him another small encouragement and inspiring Kageyama to roll his tongue over the head, circling around the tip. Hinata’s body stiffens and he moans out quiet into the room.

Reassured from the reaction, Kageyama repeats the motion. He runs his tongue down the shaft, then up to the tip again. Widening his mouth, he takes more of Hinata into his mouth. The effect is instantaneous, hands clinging to the roots of his hair. Hinata whines his name and it’s another bout of encouragement.

It’s a moment of experimentation for the both of them. Kageyama listens for the sounds of pleasure and responds accordingly, using a free hand to grasp Hinata's erection by the base when given the advice. It gives him greater control and Hinata appreciates the use of his mouth and hand together in quiet gasps.

“Kageyama…” Hinata breathes, hot and heavy. “I-I'm...”

And Kageyama gets why Hinata reacted the way he did earlier, because upon hearing the breathless words, it incites a new goal in his head. He wants to do everything he can to make the last stretch. He pushes his head low, taking Hinata in until his throat resists. Even so, Kageyama forces through persistently. His throat contracts and his eyes water, yet it’s not enough to deter him considering the noises Hinata is making. Kageyama pushes so deep his nose and lips meet Hinata’s pelvis.

“Oh- ah!” Hinata tries to lift Kageyama’s head, but tenses up and drops into the pillow. Hot liquid shoots down Kageyama’s throat and he eases himself up carefully. Hinata has an arm bent and covering his face, breathing unsteadily.

He shifts his arm down to glare at Kageyama. “You… why did you keep going?”

“You didn’t say I had to stop!” Kageyama protests. “I thought I kept going until you finished.”

Hinata is bright red, returning his arm over his eyes. “Was it bad?” He asks, voice timid.

“What? No,” Kageyama grunts. “Why would it be bad?”

Hinata shakes his head, sitting up. “Maybe not everything I’ve been told is true,” he ponders.

Kageyama shrugs, settling himself next to Hinata on the mattress. He stays in the bed a short time, eventually sitting up and dressing. Kageyama wasn’t expect Hinata to stay in the guest room overnight, but it doesn’t mean he’s happy to watch him go. As he’s slipping his doublet on, Hinata turns to him.

“Breakfast in the morning?” He asks. Kageyama nods, already thinking about all the delicious food that will be served.

Straightening the jacket out, Hinata steps to the edge of the bed, resting a knee on the mattress and bending over to kiss Kageyama quick. He smiles, something sweet and tired and Kageyama can’t say he’s far from dropping into a heavy sleep himself.

At the door, Hinata pauses, turning to him.

“A healer is being arranged to see you in the morning. Sleep well, Kageyama.”

Kageyama hums out an acknowledgement, already drowsy as he gets comfortable in the blankets.

* * *

The next morning, he wakes to the sound of his door slamming, followed by a very _angry_ Sugawara in the open frame. Kageyama has no time to wonder how he managed to get here on such short notice, or the fact that Hinata fucking sold him out, probably as some twisted idea of revenge for not telling him about the tournament, the jerk.

Because he’s already striding across the room, pointing a very stern finger and delivering a brutal verbal assault. Kageyama wishes he was at least fully dressed to endure this.

* * *

“You’re kidding, right.”

Spoken like a statement, not a question.

“Well, uh, no?”

Something akin to pained frustration crosses Sakusa’s face. “You asked the King to become a knight based off your tournament experience,” he repeats. It sounds worse the second time it’s spoken. He can’t believe he gave a shit about this. It took a lot of gruelling discomfort and mental discipline to admit it to himself in the first place, for the dinner to be about something like this?

Gaining confirmation from Atsumu’s rigid stare, Sakusa continues sipping his drink. “You don’t know how stupid you are, Miya.”

“Cut it out, Omi! Yer not makin’ any sense, what’s the big deal anyway?”

“You have to be a squire for years before you can think about knighthood,” Sakusa explains, eyes cast off across the tavern.

No immediate answer us given. He glimpses at Atsumu, overlapping drunken laughter and chatter remaining around them. It appears the King took pity on him during their meeting and had one of his healers treat him, his arm is free of the sling and his other injuries are nonexistent. This is all too similar of a fat, lame joke the longer he thinks on it. Why would the King waste his time inviting a halfwit like Atsumu for dinner in the first place?

Atsumu is seemingly putting his words together, his brows drawn down in thought and staring into his cup. Or at least, it’s what Sakusa assumes until Atsumu opens his mouth again.

“The fuck’s a squire?” He asks, sipping his drink.

Sakusa scrunches his eyes tight. Deep within his chest, he releases a sigh and stands up. He throws coins on the table and heads for the exit, ignoring Atsumu’s calls of protest towards him. Atsumu tails him outside, squawking not seconds later.

“You didn’t let me finish Omi!” He cries.

He wants to tell him to cut using the nickname, but it’s about as useful as telling the skies to rain during a drought. “I think I can figure the rest out. He politely declined and escorted you to the gates.”

It’s dark, but Sakusa knows that terrible, cocky grin from the small offerings of light they receive passing by buildings carrying torches. “Ha! Humour me here. He told me I get to come to the castle next week for meetings and training!” Atsumu insists.

Sakusa shakes his head. “It’s too late for your ridiculous lies. I’m going home,” he declares, hoping it’s a way to break off this conversation.

Unfortunately, the novelty of his harsh words goes completely over Atsumu’s head. A hand grasps at Sakusa’s sleeve and retracts upon receiving a scowl. “Omi, I ain’t lying! Look, I’ve got the King’s seal here,” he says, reaching into his pocket and removing a scroll. He holds it out for Sakusa, who fixes it with a leer before snatching the paper and stepping near a torch to read the first few sentences.

He glances up at Atsumu, who grins bright and stupid.

“You made it up,” he comments.

“How could I have done that!?” Atsumu barks. “The King took on that mercenary who fought Ushijima recently. Works for him all the time I hear, and I bet'cha he ain’t ever been a squire!”

Sakusa frowns at the letter and passes it back, resuming down the street. Defeat. Is that what he’s feeling right now? It’s similar, but there’s something different.

“What, no congratulations?” He hears from behind.

“You don’t need it from me,” Sakusa insists.

He hears footsteps running. Does this fool know when to quit? “I should have known you’d make this no fun. Stop walkin’ away, would ya?” Atsumu growls.

Sakusa stops, but he doesn’t turn around.

Atsumu walks in front of him, holding the letter out again. “You didn’t read the whole thing.”

Atsumu can’t read, so it’s weird for him to be pointing something like this out. Maybe someone read it to him earlier. “I don’t need to,” Sakusa says. He got the gist of it.

“Yes, you do,” Atsumu fights stubbornly, waving the parchment in front of him.

“I don’t,” Sakusa hisses, narrowing his eyes. What, he really needs to gloat like this? He could be doing it to a room full of people back at the tavern, but no, it has to be Sakusa getting tortured. He is worse than garbage.

“Omi, shut yer trap and _read the message_ ,” Atsumu demands.

Losing the thin thread of patience he possesses, Sakusa grabs the scroll from him, ripping it in the process. His eyes flicker through the lines of writing, and through each one he reads, his shoulders lose their tenseness. By the end, his glare has softened into something passive and he re-reads it to be sure. Finally, he raises his gaze to Atsumu, who is shockingly timid.

“You don’t have to do it if ya don’t want,” Atsumu dismisses, his hands on his hips. Is he embarrassed? “But yer better suited workin’ with a bunch’a strong, serious guys like yourself. Not a group of dirty, hot-blooded dolts who can barely lace their boots.”

Definitely embarrassed, Sakusa concludes, not trying to suppress the smirk on his face. Atsumu is red in the face. “Then why are you joining?” Sakusa asks.

Atsumu scowls in the blink of an eye. “Yer not funny.”

Sakusa disagrees, shrugging. “I’ll think on it. What about your brother?”

“What about him?” Atsumu asks, dumbfounded.

“Won't this interfere with your tournaments?” Sakusa says, awfully skeptical.

Atsumu shrugs. "'Samu's been saying for some time he's done with them. He's got enough coin to live comfortably for some time before he's gotta worry about finding work."

"He doesn't also want to become a knight?"

Atsumu gives him a disbelieving sneer. “If he does, he can find a way to impress the King himself and figure it out."

Sakusa shakes his head, continuing down the street with Atsumu chattering next to him.


	20. (Ep) So Save Tonight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This epilogue is what you would call…me getting carried away. 0 regrets on the length of this one (the longest chapter of the story), because these two really had to have some attention! Again, get comfy for the long ride. The rest of the epilogues definitely won’t be this long.

The table is quiet. It’s a state that doesn’t normally befall their group, and Kuroo is wildly uncomfortable. His eyes have been stuck to his plate nearly the entire time for fear of accidentally meeting Sugawara’s gaze. Right now, he has absolutely zero interest in being on the receiving end of the stare. 

Kageyama is late. A whole day, in fact.

It’s a miracle Sugawara hasn’t set out for the city yet. Kuroo has a hunch Daichi had a hand in preventing it. Nobody wants to be the one to the break the silence, and so the room remains tense.

Until a door opens from somewhere in the fort. Sugawara reacts right away, sliding his chair out and striding towards the front. Kuroo sighs and Iwaizumi tilts his head back.

“That better not be a wandering traveller,” Iwaizumi mutters.

Judging by Sugawara’s sound of excitement from a few rooms over, Kuroo would say the he’s correct. In a short passing, Kageyama and Sugawara enter the kitchen and the healer's mood has flipped completely. He’s smiling, chatting brightly and not at all upset. Another strange occurrence, Kuroo thinks to himself. He expected Sugawara and Daichi to be hassling him at the door for at least ten minutes before allowing him to join the meal. They’ve certainly done it in the past.

Greetings are called out and Sugawara grabs an extra plate for Kageyama while he sits at the table.

“I have something for you, Kuroo,” Kageyama says, reaching into his bag and setting a scroll down in front of him.

“Little ol’ me, huh?” He asks without much thought, picking up the scroll and breaking the seal. The handwriting is instantly recognizable. The message is short and to the point.

“What is it?” Sugawara asks.

He must have tensed up. Kuroo rolls the parchment, shaking his head and resuming in eating his meal. “Nothing important,” he assures.

He tells himself he should throw it out and go on as normal. He has no reason to be involved.

Still, even though Kuroo crumples the parchment up after rereading the note alone in his room later, he’s contemplating if ignoring Kenma’s message is what’s best.

Best for who, exactly?

He’s not entirely sure.

* * *

A month passes. In that time, Kuroo has taken each day as it comes. Some are good, others are bad. Thankfully, he’s had a strong support system to keep him afloat during the hard days. If he doesn’t show up to breakfast, Sugawara will stop by his room later in the morning offering a plate of food. If he attempts to laze around the fort idly for too long, Iwaizumi or Kageyama will force him to train. Daichi and Akaashi might catch him up late reading his tomes and keep him company. Daichi often dozes off and Akaashi ends up making the two of them tea. Kuroo would never admit it to Sugawara, but Akaashi makes it the best. Probably some secret noble technique.

Kuroo wishes him well as Kageyama leaves for his first days of training at the castle. Minutes later a frantic Sugawara comes rushing towards the kitchen and muttering to himself about burnt bread. He smiles to himself knowingly. Kuroo has yet to figure out why Sugawara is hesitant about Kageyama working at the castle. There's the glaring reason- the potential corruption still running through the place, but Kuroo can't exactly figure how a few nights of training a week will lead Kageyama into some twisted situation.

Kageyama returns and Sugawara finally stops wearing a crease between his brows. Kageyama carries a couple messages. The first, addressed to all of them, is an invitation.

Sugawara's eyes light up as he reads the parchment. "A celebration for the King's Birthday!" He exclaims. "Sounds fun!"

"We don't need to go to that, do we?" Iwaizumi asks skeptically. It earns a dirty glance from Sugawara and a shake of his head from Akaashi.

"It would be rude to decline without a proper excuse," Akaashi says.

"I'll be busy on a hunting trip."

"How can you say that when I haven't told you the date yet?" Sugawara fires back. "It's far from now."

Iwaizumi remains silent.

"Not up for another fancy party?" Daichi teases.

"Do whatever you want, but don't expect me to join," Iwaizumi declares.

Such a serious response, Kuroo wants to throw a jab or two of his own is. It could lead to a punch, which he doesn't particularly care to receive.

Kageyama presents the second message, holding it out for Kuroo. At first, all he does is stare at the scroll.

“Should I tell him you’re not interested?” Kageyama guesses, based off his expression.

Kuroo huffs, rubbing the back of his head. “No, give it here,” he says, reaching for the scroll.

He doesn’t open it, instead tucking it away in his room. He returns to it late at night, the hours Kuroo normally gets magic practice in. Tonight, he sits on the edge of his bed, rolling the scroll between his fingers.

He’s curious, all things considered. Sure, Kuroo wasn’t interested in going on a trip to the very place he sought to avoid for the rest of his life, but now that Kenma and Hinata have returned, they could possess new information. The recurring questions come to the forefront of his mind: _Do I really want to do this? Is it smart to get involved?_

But, just reading a message can’t hurt, can it? Kuroo can throw it out like the last one and forget about it. If he doesn't care for what it says, he'll rip it up and forget about it (carelessly missing the fact that he has yet to forget about the first). He has no obligations to return Kenma’s messages.

He peels the seal off slowly, unrolling the scroll and sitting closer by the oil lamp lit next to his bed.

It’s a short message. Compact and to the point, as Kuroo expected it to be.

Still, reading the sentences leaves him blinking down at the paper, knowing there's no way he's going to forget about it now.

* * *

Akaashi, Sugawara, Daichi and Iwaizumi go on a trip somewhere west and Kuroo decides to stay at home, still not interested in leaving the confines of their secluded space. Kageyama remains too, for his obligation to the King.

Sugawara leaves Kuroo thorough instructions for tending to his indoor plants and garden, Daichi reminds him to feed the remaining horses and Iwaizumi tells him not to destroy the fort with any new spells he intends on practicing in their absence. Kuroo sneers at the last point, reminding him the last accident didn’t even cause structural damage. Akaashi simply wishes him well, and Kuroo pesters the others about taking pointers from him.

The fort is dead without the others around and at first, Kuroo likes it the emptiness of it. Kageyama spends his days outdoors, doing who knows what. The emptiness of the fort is a rare treat, and Kuroo basks in it, lounging around various locations in the house and reading for hours of the day.

In the late day, Kageyama asks him to spar. Kuroo shoots him a pained look from his sprawled-out position on a couch, hoping it’s good enough to pass as an answer. Thick, persistent Kageyama remains unchanging, staring at him energetically and waiting for the answer he wants.

So, he spends a few hours sweating and heaving like a wounded animal while Kageyama gets a nice warm up session. Kuroo isn't a bad fighter; rather he’s got terrible endurance for physical fighting. Range fighting has always been his strong suit, given his magical capabilities.

Kageyama cooks their meals, and the two of them eat together at the near empty table. He is pleasantly surprised by Kageyama’s culinary skill; Sugawara has clearly taught him well over the years. Kuroo waters Sugawara’s plants in his medicine room, and tends to the garden outside. It’s oddly calming, pruning the larger plants while the sounds of the forest surround him. He finishes the chores, enjoying the mindless tasks.

Come the next passing days, Kageyama leaves for the castle. Left in complete seclusion, restlessness festers inside of Kuroo. In small ways, where he’ll crave the need for social attention. Eating is the worst time of day. Kuroo can’t bring himself to sit at the table by himself, so he’ll either eat in his room or on the steps outside of the fort. He’s never been one to cook either, surviving on the bread Sugawara left for them (which is going stale) and smoked meats.

He’s getting bored, too. Reading has become dull, and there’s no other plants of Sugawara’s for Kuroo to tend to right now. He goes out for a walk with his horse around the forest and gathers fresh water from the stream they always use. He’s chopped a good amount of firewood to keep him comfortable for a few days, and done everyone’s laundry, including their bedding for crying out loud. Seriously, if Iwaizumi or the others saw him doing this, they’d think he lost his mind. Boredom has him desperate, he supposes.

At one point, Kuroo lays on his back outside of the fort, sprawled out on the ground for at least an hour.

And finally, sweet mercy _finally_ Kageyama returns and Kuroo is much too eager to have the presence of someone in the fort again. Kageyama asks him to train every day he’s home and he agrees sullenly, knowing it will leave his arms and legs aching.

Kageyama reminds him he’s departing to the castle the night before he sets out. It’s like a threat to Kuroo, his mind reminding him of what it was like the last time he was left alone. The lines of Kenma’s letters reappear as well, his writing practically engraved into his memory. It’s a solution, or at least a temporary one. He could meet Kenma, if only to hear what he has to say.

It could be a way to cure this itch. Or, it could be a terrible decision in the works.

As Kageyama is retreating to his room for the night, Kuroo catches him.

“I’m going with you tomorrow,” Kuroo declares.

Kageyama nods.

* * *

They arrive to the city at night, getting beyond the walls smoothly with a letter Kageyama shows the guards. Crossing into the castle gates is just as easy, one of the guards recognizing Kageyama. The two of them trek towards the castle and are greeted by a young servant upon stepping inside the front doors. Kageyama leaves for the training yard and the servant guides Kuroo somewhere in the east halls.

The servant opens a pair of doors and waits for Kuroo to enter. He does, and the doors close behind him. Kuroo surveys the large, open library with a craning neck. He spots Kenma on a couch in one of the corners, curled into a ball and holding a book close to his face. Kuroo pays mind to the black, leather gloves he wears.

He clears his throat, setting off a noticeable flinch from Kenma. He lowers his book slowly, peering at him. “I didn’t hear you come in,” Kenma murmurs.

Had it been anyone else, Kuroo might have teased, but his guard instinctively goes up and leaves little for his antagonizing antics. Instead, he remains silent as Kenma tags his page and sets it down. He pours a second cup of tea on the small table between the couches. Kuroo watches the liquid steaming from the cup.

“You can sit, if you want,” Kenma offers.

Kuroo steps forward, sitting on the opposing couch. He accepts the tea passed to him and sits stiff.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d come.”

“Well, I’m here.”

Kenma swallows uncomfortably, probably feeling the undertones in Kuroo’s voice. _Get on with it_. “Now that my Father has been arrested, ownership of the Institute has officially fallen to me,” he explains.

Kuroo’s head is downturned into the cup of tea. He doesn’t say anything; he’s not sure he needs to.

“I have ideas of what should be done. And I’d like your input, perhaps your blessing, to go ahead with one of them.”

“The only thing you’d get my blessing for is tearing the whole building down,” Kuroo assures.

“It is one of the options.”

Kuroo shoots a skeptical glance Kenma’s way. “As opposed to what? Keeping the building operational and the kids locked up there?”

Kenma sips his tea. “I can appreciate why you would want to separate yourself completely from the place. I wished to extend the offer so you'd believe I was serious about my intentions towards the Institute.”

Kuroo sets the tea on the table and leans back in his seat to collect his thoughts.

“Why did you go there?” He asks.

“To gather the children. There were other tasks completed as well,” Kenma answers.

This has Kuroo’s attention. “The kids?”

Kenma nods.

“Where are they?”

“Here, in the castle.”

Another stretch of silence. Kuroo isn’t sure he can sort through everything he thinks about, a strange heaviness building in his stomach.

“And what about the rest of them? The mages?” He finds himself asking.

Kenma opens his mouth and hesitates. “They are…also here in the castle.”

“ _What_?”

Kenma spills his tea from the outburst. Kuroo has come straight down to reality, his tongue sharp. “When you say that, you mean in the dungeons,” he infers doubtfully.

“I’ve been talking to them,” Kenma tries to reason.

“Oh? Swapped horror stories about your father over tea and cake?”

“Yes, and a roasted hog for the main course,” Kenma tacks on dryly. Kuroo glares. “Will you continue this petulance, or hear what I have to say?”

“Where are they Kenma?” Kuroo asks.

“They are not in the dungeons.”

“I asked, _where!?_ ” He yells. His voice echoes in the room.

“They do not pose a threat. We have mages routinely blocking their magic. None of them are capable of doing anything."

"They're plenty capable."

Kenma pushes himself further into the couch uncomfortably, but he challenges him. “Those people are also victims, Kuroo.”

“No,” Kuroo says, standing up. “You of all people don’t get to patronize me about this.”

“I am not patronizing,” Kenma assures, his eyes starting to narrow. “Those mages suffered-”

“That’s why it’s worse!” Kuroo bellows. He pushes up the sleeve of his shirt, exposing the scars on his forearms. “They went through all this shit and knew how awful it was. They knew it better than anyone else ever could and yet they still abused and manipulated kids when it came their turn. How are they victims!? You should be hanging their necks from the city walls-"

“What other choice did they have, than to follow their orders!?” Kenma interrupts him, also standing up. “They were stranded in the mountains, never knowing anything outside the gates of their prison. They knew if they refused, there would be consequences. They were destined to fail from the beginning, taught to react to fear. All of the instructors came here willingly when I gave the order. Nobody tried to escape once in our travels and I am sure they were aware of what we were doing.”

His voice loses temper midway through. Kuroo keeps his fists clenched tight.

“Do you understand what I’m saying?” Kenma asks.

Kuroo walks out of the library without another word. He traces his steps to the front room, exiting the castle and gates with minimal words to the servants and guards.

He heads into the streets commonly busy at night, searching for a nice distraction.

***

In the morning, Kuroo attempts returning to the castle. The guards have changed shifts since he left and don’t recognize him at the gates. They won’t allow him in, no matter what he says.

“Where’s Kenma? He’ll vouch for me,” he insists.

“Lord Kozume went home at dawn,” one of them answers.

Kuroo hunches his shoulders. “Ugh. Where does he live?”

The guards inform him how to get to Kenma’s estate. He locates the huge house easily, banging on his front door.

A servant answers the door apprehensively. Kuroo gives a short explanation for his sudden visit and the servant insists Kenma isn’t in a state for visitors. Kuroo rolls his eyes and pushes past them, stepping into the house. It’s multiple stories high, and there’s probably a ridiculous amount of rooms he could be hiding in right now. Kuroo has no clue where to search, and the servant is walking towards him, giving an order to leave.

“Kenma!” Kuroo yells, loud into the house. “Kenma, where are you!?”

“Please, keep your voice down!” The servant cries in a hushed tone. “The Lord requests absolute silence -”

“ _Kenma! Get your ass in here!”_ He all but screeches, putting distance between him the ever-growing panicked servant. He circles behind a couch, watching the servant scoff at him. He’ll find a way to explore the whole damn house if he has to, top to bottom-

“Why are you yelling in my house like a deranged animal?” He hears a voice hissing from above. Standing behind the railing of a mezzanine, Kenma's eyes are half-lidded and fiery, aimed at Kuroo.

“You weren’t at the castle,” Kuroo explains.

“I waited around long-” Kenma stops, pinching the bridge of his nose. “If you wish to speak, get up here,” he says, turning around and walking away from the railing.

It comes out almost like an order. Kuroo, while still frustrated, is a bit off put by the brashness. He marches stiff up the stairs and behind Kenma into what he figures to be his bedroom. The door closes rather harshly before Kenma stalks towards his bed, plopping onto the edge and staring at Kuroo impatiently.

He must really not enjoy his sleep being interrupted.

“I want to know more about what’s going on,” Kuroo says.

Kenma displays no change of emotion. Doesn’t even blink. “I’ll tell you whatever you’d like.”

“Tell me everything.”

Kenma’s eyes taper to slits.

Kuroo crosses his arms. “Fine. Sleep first, talk later. I get it.”

Kenma walks him out, peering over the railing of the mezzanine again. “Kuroo is a welcome guest here. See that he is cared for during his visit,” he orders. Kuroo hears the servant acknowledge him and Kenma promptly marches passed him and slams his bedroom door shut.

Kuroo walks up to the space Kenma stood, grinning at the servant. “I must have interrupted his beauty sleep,” he teases.

The servant exhales. “Frankly, I’m surprised you made it out alive.”

* * *

In the afternoon, Kuroo is reading outside on the verandah. Kenma joins him, a chess board tucked under his arm and two bags of pieces held in his hand. He doesn’t exactly ask Kuroo to play, but Kuroo doesn’t protest as he sits in the unoccupied seat and lines the pieces up either. He closes his book and turns to the board.

He does love a good game of wits.

Their first match lasts hours. Kuroo dwells consistently on Kenma's gloves, knowing it's much too hot out for them to be comfortable. Kuroo chooses not to mention it because he can figure this kind of thing out pretty easily from experience.

They land in a stale mate, leaving neither satisfied. Kenma has a frazzled expression on his face as he stares between the board and Kuroo.

“Play another?” Kuroo asks him.

Kenma perks up, the frustration vanishing into something passive. He angles his head down to the board as he aligns the pieces. “People don’t often ask me to play consecutive games,” he murmurs. “I usually have to persuade them.”

During the second game, Kuroo brings up the topic he’s been waiting patiently on. “I want to hear what your other ideas are,” he says tentatively.

“Regardless of what happens to the Institute, most of the children will stay in the city. Under half have a family to return to and I am still working on tracking some of them. The rest would be placed under custody of the Kingdom until they come of age.”

“Where will they live?” Kuroo asks, taking a knight with his rook.

“In the castle,” he murmurs like it should be obvious.

Kuroo raises an eyebrow.

“There’s no shortage of space for such a small group, and they refuse to sleep in separate rooms anyway. I could find foster homes in the city, but the children would get separated, so I’m not sure it would be wise. At the castle, they can be cared for all together. Plus, Shouyou has already become fond of them. He enjoys the extra company."

Kuroo doesn’t know what to say.

“The first option as we discussed would be to tear the entire thing down. The second, a deconstruction of the Institute. It would mean purging the current way it is run as well as remodelling the interior. A transformation of the sorts. Instead of getting rid of it, maybe it could become an actual educational facility, instead of a prison.”

Kuroo’s instincts say no. He keeps his mouth shut, because a small part of him is intrigued, oddly enough.

“There is a sort of prejudice towards dark magic in the elements. Ancient texts have always described the them all to be equal to one another and yet with years of corruption and rewriting of history, a lot of mages view them differently.”

Kuroo wasn’t aware of this. He’s always known light magic to be an art taught exclusively to those either belonging to religious groups or the nobility. Elemental mages are easy to come by, like the fire, thunder and wind ones. Kuroo was able to teach himself the basics of fire by studying out of texts. He's never met another dark mage outside of the Institute save for the fugitive they captured.

“People like my father strove towards keeping this hierarchy in place in order to keep his own ideal of righteousness in place. He believes light magic is the purest of all elements and the others are below it. Especially dark magic.”

He rolls his tongue over the roof of his mouth, trying to stifle anger at the words. Kuroo knows it’s not Kenma’s belief, but it’s awful to hear all the same.

“Can’t say I'm surprised,” he mutters.

“Unsurprisingly, this is utter nonsense bred from years of lies. I recently came to possess a book containing different rituals using both light and dark magic. It’s an interesting read, I think you would enjoy it too.”

Kenma moves his rook and seizes Kuroo’s castle.

“I believe a transformation of the Institute could not only begin to right the wrongs committed by my family, but the distorted image of dark mages can be restored. This way, my father’s line of thinking and all the other people who share a similar perspective can die off.”

Kuroo hasn’t lifted his eyes from the board.

“The third option, is to use the building as a prison for high profile criminals. The dungeons are overcrowded from the recent trials and we could occupy the space.”

“And what about the mages?”

At Kenma's silence, Kuroo raises his head and Kenma doesn’t shy under his gaze. The gold hues of his iris’ leave Kuroo’s mind stagnant, just a few seconds.

"You recall the estate you travelled to, on Aji Island?"

Kuroo nods, unsure as to how this is relevant.

"And I am sure the others told you about the large fort in the Northern Mountains."

"Right," Kuroo confirms, becoming impatient.

"My father owned them and has many other buildings like them in all corners of the land. He used them as locations to conceal high profile criminals so they may escape persecution."

"He's sure left his imprint around here, hasn't he?" Kuroo tuts.

"Indeed," Kenma murmurs. "I want to use the estate in the Northern Mountains as a location to transfer the mages."

"You want to do the exact same thing your Father did?"

Kenma shrugs. "In a sense. You can view the place as a sort of prison. It's an isolated building, at least a day's travel to the closest town. They won’t be permitted to leave so we will deliver food and water regularly as well as perform check ups on them."

It’s a stretch, making the comparison, Kuroo thinks. "So, they just get a normal life after this?"

Kenma considers this, then shakes his head. "No, given their circumstances, I don't think they could ever live a normal life. But maybe they can be at ease."

Kuroo claims Kenma’s queen. “Why do you want my approval so bad?” He asks. Really, Kenma could be making any one of these decisions, being the one in charge.

“I’ve told you why already.”

“But you don’t need me to be the one to decide what’s right and wrong. Isn’t Hinata’s supposed to be the one? And why do you have to prove to me you’re following up on your word? For your ego?” He edges. He's provoking intentionally, and aware of the fact.

“I need to know I’m doing it right.”

“What?” Kuroo asks, not expecting the answer.

“I need someone who has been through it first hand to help us choose the best option. The others, they have ideas based on logic and some feeling of repenting. But there’s no way any of us who sit at the big tables can know if it’s what is best. I realize you have bitterness towards me, and I won’t ask you to forget it. But I will ask- I am asking you to consider lending your input on this issue. Not for me, but for the kids.”

 _Cheap shot_ , Kuroo thinks to himself bitterly. Really, he's frustrated because it's not a crazy request and he doesn't hate Kenma's ideas.

“I’ll consider it,” Kuroo finally admits.

Kenma smiles, only it's down at the chess board and there's something cunning twinkling in his eyes.

“What?” Kuroo asks.

He moves his knight, placing Kuroo in a check mate.

Kuroo glowers.

***

In the evening, Kuroo has dinner with Hinata, Kageyama, Kenma and Oikawa at the castle. The food is delicious and plentiful, the conversation light. Hinata sure can chat up a storm, pouncing on any topic he can catch and launching into whole conversations about them. He is lively and inclusive to everyone, drawing a few sentences from Kenma too.

It’s strange to witness how warm Hinata still is towards Kenma and call Kuroo a cynic, but he expected at least a hint of distrust in his behaviour, only to observe no such thing. As if not so long ago, he wasn’t face to face with betrayal over Kenma’s actions. Even Oikawa, through his teasing remarks over the meal seems to be overly fond of Kenma.

Kuroo departs for home at sundown, able to get through the outskirts fast in the quietness it leaves. Kenma told him to think on a decision, but Kuroo knows he wants a final answer as soon as possible. The trip home goes by quick because Kuroo does little other than loop through all of the conversations held, and all of the different ways he could approach this.

He’s left alone at the fort for another two days until Iwaizumi and the others return. It’s enough time alone and to himself for him to determine an answer. Prior to anyone else, he goes to Sugawara one night. He’s in his medical room, crafting up some kind of potion. Kuroo doesn't open his mouth right away and the healer already raises an eyebrow in question.

“Everything okay?” Sugawara asks, setting his mixture down on the examination table.

“I need your opinion on something,” Kuroo says.

“Sure, come have a seat and I'll have a look.”

“It’s not anything like that,” Kuroo insists, but still sits on the wooden table. “I went to the castle while you guys were away.”

He recounts the overall details to Sugawara. The healer stays silent, humming here and there, grinding the potion mixture down with a pestle.

“Should I do it?” Kuroo asks once he’s finished.

“Am I the first one you’ve told?”

Kuroo nods. “I know if I ask Iwaizumi, he’ll tell me to do whatever I want.”

“And you don’t think I'll say the same?” Sugawara asks playfully.

Kuroo scoffs a laugh. “No, you’ll tell me if it’s a bad decision or not.”

Sugawara pauses to reflect on the words. “I'll tell you my honest thoughts but first, you tell me yours.”

And so, Kuroo does.

* * *

The news of Kuroo’s arrival grabs hold of Kenma’s attention the moment a servant informs him the others are waiting in a council room for him to join. He clears his paperwork away and cycles through the possibilities of what’s to come in the next instance. Surely, Kuroo didn’t travel all this way to tell them he wants no part of this? He could have had Kageyama deliver such news.

Shouyou greets him upon entering the council room. Kenma sits in his usual space next to him and nods at Kuroo.

“Let’s begin then. Kuroo, I trust you’re here because you’ve made a decision in regards to the Institute of Dark Magic?” Shouyou says.

“I have. I know what needs to be done, and I want to be apart of it.”

“This is excellent news,” Shouyou offers.

Kuroo continues. “Before I agree, there are conditions I need met.”

Kenma gazes at Kuroo curiously and Hinata urges him to elaborate.

“The third option is the best, but there’s one other thing necessary. The children should have the option to continue their studies. For some of them, it’s all they know. They’ve been stripped down to nothing other than a shell to master dark magic, and now they’ve been uprooted into an entirely new life.”

“What are you proposing?” Shouyou asks. Kenma also wonders the same thing.

“Let me teach them,” Kuroo declares. “I’m someone they can relate to and I’ll give them proper training.”

Hinata runs a hand over his mouth.

“It would mean you would have to work here in the castle quite often,” he muses.

“I understand.”

“And since you’re the single dark mage qualified, you’d be entirely responsible for creating curriculums.”

“Makes sense,” Kuroo agrees.

“How long do you plan to teach them?” Oikawa asks.

“As long as they want. Could be months, could be years.”

 _Years._ Kenma is tempted by the word, eyes trained to the table top.

“I like it,” Shouyou says. “Kenma?”

“It sounds appropriate if you are committed to it.”

“I will be,” Kuroo assures.

“What’s your second condition?” Oikawa asks.

Kuroo smiles, leaning his elbows on the table and folding his hands together. “It just so happens my dear friend Sugawara wants to learn light magic.”

Skepticism enters Kenma's mind, quick as a rabbit.

“I figured, what an opportunity in the making, yea? You guys want my help, I want your help. I agree to helping fix this fucked up situation and you spare a light mage around the castle for a couple days of training every month for him.”

As soon as Shouyou parts his lips, Kenma closes his eyes and holds back the sigh, knowing what’s to come.

“Oh, I’m sure Kenma wouldn’t mind volunteering, right?” He offers.

Oikawa lets out a laugh. “Judging by his face, he minds the idea.”

Kenma lowers his gaze into his lap. “It’s fine. I’ll do it.”

But he really _doesn’t_ want to. Him? Teaching? It isn't an optimal situation, but if it’s what it takes to have Kuroo on board, he’ll find a way to will through it.

“Let’s draft this,” Hinata suggests. Kenma gladly reaches for parchment and a pen, scribbling down information to be scribed into proper documentation as their meeting progresses.

* * *

Kuroo looks up from packing clothes to Daichi standing in his open doorway, offering a smile and holding something in his hand.

“Leaving soon?” Daichi asks.

"After dinner tonight, if I'm packed by then."

“Well, I’ve got one other thing for you to add,” and Daichi steps forward, offering his hand up.

It’s a deck of Hanafuda cards.

Kuroo quirks a brow. “In case I get bored of teaching and want to play games instead?”

Daichi chuckles. “Can’t hurt to teach them fun things too.”

Hearing the words sends a heavy rock down his throat. “You’re right.”

It comes out forced. Kuroo grabs the deck and turns away, shoving it into his bag.

“This may come off weird, but I’m proud of you,” Daichi says from behind.

Kuroo pauses. A prickle through his windpipe now. He breathes in to reset himself, shooting Daichi a teasing grin.

“What’re you, my dad?” Kuroo jokes. Nevertheless, Daichi steps forward and Kuroo turns towards him, his opens open. Kuroo meet him halfway in a hug. 

"Come home if it's too much to handle."

"I will," Kuroo promises.

* * *

Forgiveness isn’t linear. Kenma knows not everyone can forgive as easy as Hinata. In fact, he expects the majority of people to be unlike the King.

Some days, Kuroo is nice to him. They banter and exchange what could be considered pleasantries, leading Kenma to believe things are stable.

Others, Kuroo forces him into training till Kenma is breathless and unable to stand, and he thinks Kuroo must seriously hate his guts. To be fair, he was the one who presented the ancient tome to Kuroo in the first place, but that doesn’t mean Kenma offered to practice it. Rediscovering an ancient magic has been intriguing at least.

Kenma doesn’t attend many meetings at the castle in daylight. There are too many people around and too many wandering eyes, casting upon his very presence. Some days it’s inevitable for him, and he walks alone throughout the castle. One time, he’s heading to a morning meeting in the courtyard and notices Kuroo chatting with a few guards outside of the training yard. Another, he spots Tsukishima walking alongside him towards the dining hall.

Seeing the lack of guard as he interacts with these other people is a strange revelation to Kenma. It’s in Kuroo’s posture; in his voice. He’s at ease in front of these different people. He’s met them not long ago, like him, but it’s clear to tell Kuroo enjoys being in their presence more.

This is logical. He knows it’s a hard road to earning Kuroo's forgiveness, if it’s ever truly granted to him. Yet, the constriction inside his chest does seldom to ease up on him. It reminds him of his wrongdoings.

Kenma hates the unpleasant feeling in his chest he experiences. It’s taken him days of pondering, but he finally approaches Shouyou about it.

* * *

Eighteen kids between the ages of six and nine didn’t seem like a lot in Kuroo’s head. Standing in front of the filled rows of tables, he’s nervous how he’s going to keep track of them all. Or remember all of their names for that matter. For the first week, the kids are all wide eyes and closed lips. They’ve been here for over a month now, but it’s the complete opposite of what they’re used to, so admittedly they are still adjusting to routine days. Kuroo starts small, leading the group on walks around the castle, outside in the courtyards and to the stables to visit the horses. Yamaguchi let the more confident kids pet them. One of the boys fed an apple to one of the horses and giggled loudly as the horse chomped it in nearly one bite.

Kuroo can sense the ways they become less stressed as weeks pass. Most of them speak in full sentences when he addresses them, but a lot of the kids are shy to people they don’t know. They all love Hinata, and get riled up the odd visit he pays. The magic lessons have been a slow introduction, so he can assure them things will not be conducted the same way they were at the Institute.

He's gotten to know quite a few of the servants as well. It all began when Kuroo vehemently protested against one of the maids doing his laundry. She was very caught off guard and Kuroo insisted he could do it fine himself, if he could borrow a bucket and a washboard. So, every week, he sits in a room full of women washing laundry and is granted incredible entertainment out of all the things that came out of their mouths. They gossip and make comments that could bring anyone to tears if they heard them first hand. Sometimes, he wonders what kind of things they say about him, but really, he's better off not knowing if he has any idea.

Hinata's birthday also passes, and the celebration is similar to the one at his coronation. Kuroo enjoys himself along with his friends who attend, and doesn't see Kenma once. He thinks back to some of the comments the maids made about Kenma one day, and how polarizing the topic was. How most believed Kenma to be tied to his father's actions, and he shouldn't have been pardoned because of his friendship with the King. 

Kuroo kept his head low and contributed nothing to the conversation.

* * *

“Do they know you?” Kuroo asks Kenma while he’s grading tests in the library. He likes to come here to finish work and plan lessons, using the resources available to him in the grand room. Kenma often occupies the space to do his own work, working all hours of the night. Currently, he sits across one of the tables from Kuroo, behind a book the size of his head. It stays in place as he speaks.

“They might recognize me. I did physicals of each one of them when we brought them in.”

“That’s it?”

Kenma hums in agreement.

“Come to class to introduce yourself. I want them to keep meeting new people and learning to trust others.”

The book lowers, revealing an unsure expression. “You think they’ll trust me?”

“I think you’ll be just as scared as them so they won’t be threatened.”

Kenma purses his lips in annoyance and shields his face. “I expected you to have told them who I am.” He admits.

“I’ve mulled it over,” Kuroo says. “But it can wait. One step at a time, you know?”

Tension drops from Kenma’s shoulders. “Sure,” he says. The book drops again, closing and placed on top of the table.

“How…“ Kenma pauses. “Are they?”

“Awesome. Each one of them has their own personality finally coming out. There is one kid…” he trails off.

“Oh?”

“Lev. He’s one of the youngest. Chaotic, in a good way.”

“I can’t imagine that being good.”

Kuroo laughs. “He doesn’t know how strong he is. Or maybe he does, the kid is wild.”

“But?”

Kuroo rolls the pen in his fingers. “He has meltdowns. Full on fits.”

“We could put him in regular healing lessons,” Kenma offers.

“Maybe. I’m going to have to put a lot of effort towards him.”

***

A few weeks later, Hinata invites Kuroo to dinner. He expects others to be present, like Kenma or Oikawa, but comes to find the room empty save for the King and a few servants, laying plates of food on the table.

He glances at the table and Hinata waves for him to sit adjacent to him. Kuroo approaches, unable to resist the doubt festering. It’s a force of habit at this point, he supposes.

“You’re not in trouble or anything, don’t worry!” Hinata assures him, wearing a cheeky grin.

He was that readable? Kuroo nods a thanks to the servant who pulls his chair out. “Everyone else busy tonight?”

“Oikawa insisted his paperwork needed finishing, and Kenma has other business to attend to,” Hinata explains. The food is brought out and Hinata immediately dives in. “I saw it as a good chance to talk about how things have been!”

“There’s nothing much more than what goes into the reports,” Kuroo shrugs easily. He submits them every week, detailing progress, successes and challenges of his work with the kids. Hinata has been great responding to any of Kuroo's concerns and providing the extra support as needed.

“Now, I’m fairly certain that’s not true,” Hinata insists, a little serious.

Kuroo is unable to blink out the skepticism quick enough for the King to miss. “Oh?”

“Today, I found out something intriguing,” Hinata continues. “I saw Lev in the courtyards.”

Kuroo’s brows furrow. “Damn it, did he try and bring in another cat? I keep telling him-”

“No, no,” Hinata assures. “Actually, he told me he met a friend of mine recently, who he calls," Hinata lets out a small snicker. "‘Kitty’.”

Kuroo has the misfortune of taking a sip from his cup as Hinata speaks. His wine spews from poorly closed lips and Kuroo is hollering at the recollection. “Yes!” He exclaims, coughing. “He came to visit the class the other day.”

Hinata echoes laughter, banging his fist on the table excitedly. “Details, I need details! I bet he was so embarrassed,” he gushes.

The grin on Kuroo’s face stretches. He can picture the flustered discomfort on Kenma’s face, and he laughs a second time. “Oh, it was _so_ good, Hinata. Lev pointed straight at him, claiming he looked like one of the cats he plays with behind the stables.”

“I’m amazed you got him to agree to it. He’s always been wary of people, let alone a whole classroom of eyes on him.”

“Yea, we’ll be lucky if he ever pays another visit,” Kuroo chuckles.

Kuroo realizes upon hearing his own words, how fond he sounds. It’s a sobering moment of reflection, leaving him staring down at his plate of food.

He asks the next sentence before he gives himself the option to weigh up the severity of doing so. “Would you have forgiven him if he really did sell us out to his father?”

Hinata ponders this for a total of three seconds. “Yes,” he declares.

Kuroo pauses, his fork in front of his open mouth.

“I’m not saying it would happen overnight, or it would be easy,” Hinata assures. Kuroo swallows his bite, renewing his focus on his plate. Definitely a stupid thing to ask in hindsight, but at least Hinata isn’t offended by the sudden switch in conversation.

“You think you know someone, especially if you’ve grown up together. I could write you pages about Kenma- what he likes, what he hates. He is the brother I never had, but always wanted. Having him by my side all these years made me think we were family. That kind of familiarity- though we aren’t blood-related, it felt true. Probably like the way your and your friends are to each other.

“But then it turns out the ones you know well can be just as much a stranger as the guy you walk by on the street. It’s a terrible, terrible feeling to be so far removed. Like betrayal, but different. It’s less about the anger of trust being misused, and more like…”

“You’re sad you weren’t able to help him,” Kuroo finishes.

“Exactly. He felt so powerless and alone he couldn’t share his worst fears at all. He was too scared, you know? My father was the exact same way and I…well, I don’t ever want Kenma to go through it again.”

"Why didn't he attend your birthday celebration?"

"Hm?" Hinata tilts his head, catching on in a few seconds. "Oh! Kenma hates crowds. We had a private meal earlier in the day, so I still got to spend time with him!" He assures. It's not exactly the point Kuroo was getting at, and he wonders if it's not the only reason Kenma chose not to attend.

“He’s lucky to have you.”

“I think the same of you," Hinata counters.

“Huh?” Kuroo grunts, just about losing his mouthful.

“Kenma doesn’t take much pride in his work. He’s always been that way; doesn’t get excited to tell people new things he’s learned, or when he overcomes a difficult task. He’s really persistent and doesn’t stop a task until it’s finished.”

Hinata’s words remind Kuroo of Iwaizumi’s wound. He recalls the absolute exhaustion in Kenma’s body, from the rings around his eyes to the slouch of his shoulders. To the tears Kenma shed for Iwaizumi, and the number of poison shards on the ground, carefully extracted from his wound. The longer he comes to know Kenma, the surer he’s becoming it was a very rare occurrence for him to be so vulnerable.

“These days, I can tell he’s inspired. He does the work not simply because it’s there and needs to get done,” Hinata pauses, smiling full of warmth. “He does it for you.”

* * *

It’s too early. Or rather, too early for Kenma’s regular schedule. Right now, he’d normally be curled into a blanket and dozing off the day till sundown. But no, it was _insisted_ this meeting occur at midday. Those annoying councillors argued it was easier for a Kenma to bend to their schedules as opposed for the group of them to accommodate him.

And he really wouldn’t like to be at the meeting in the first place, but they need to go over reports from the new prison transfer and Kenma is the one in charge of the building. Still, it doesn’t mean Kenma is thrilled or in any rush to listen to the mind-numbing drawling of the councillors.

In the front courtyards, Kenma hears meowing. He turns towards the sound, locating Lev, poking his head out from around a hedge. Kenma seriously considers ignoring him and walking away, but apparently, he’s not that jaded yet. He sighs, stepping in Lev’s direction.

“Kitty!” Lev calls, coming forward and running to him. He’s awfully tall for a child, Kenma thinks as he stops in front of him. He wonders how big the kid will grow to be.

“It’s Kenma,” he corrects quietly. “Shouldn’t you be in class, Lev?” He asks.

Red flushes the child’s pale cheeks, and he averts his gaze. “Well… we’re learning a new spell in the training yard, but I already know it! I always get the spells way quicker than anyone else.”

Interesting. “So Kuroo let you wander off?” Kenma asks skeptically.

Lev shies further. “Well, um, no?”

His interactions with Lev establish a weird kind of patience inside of Kenma he never knew he had. “He could get worried you wandered off all alone,” he says.

“Will he be mad?” Lev asks, suddenly hesitant.

Kenma shakes his head, returning to the path. “Come. We can go to the training yard together.”

“Okay!” Lev agrees, running to his side and grasping one of Kenma’s sleeves. He says nothing of it, surprisingly unbothered by the action.

“Can I show you the spell I learned at the training yard?” The child asks him.

Kenma has no quarrels making the councillors wait on him and agrees. Lev cheers, throwing his free arm up excitedly.

* * *

One afternoon, Kuroo brings the kids to the library to gather resources on a project about the various magical elements. He comes to learn Kenma sometimes uses the space as a room to nap. He’s curled up into a ball on one of the couches in the corner, dozing peacefully.

Kuroo presses his finger to his lips and the kids fall hushed. Lev unfortunately, catches sight of Kenma and bounds over to him in excitement. Kuroo is able to get a hand on his shirt as he flies by, preventing for from totally assailing Kenma.

He however, sits up from the commotion of Lev yelping. Kenma's head darts around in alarm, settling on the group of kids, and finally Kuroo. He can recognize the cranky edge he gets when he’s sleep-deprived.

“Try somewhere private for a nap,” Kuroo teases.

The space between Kenma’s eyebrows pinches tighter.

* * *

“So, Lev is basically obsessed with you,” Kuroo tells him in the midst of grading tests.

Kenma glances over. They’re in his reading room; Kuroo occupies the chair and Kenma lays on his back in front of the fireplace, reading. Kuroo seems to find this entertaining, cracking a few jabs about how cat-like he behaves. Kenma pointedly ignores each one.

Kuroo is smirking at him, the reflection of the flames in the fireplace dancing in his amused eyes. “He drew a picture of you the other day. I should show you, it’s pretty good.”

It could be the cocky expression, the teasing, low voice. The way Kuroo acts in small moments like these, letting go of the shield of doubt he used to wear consistently in front of him. Kenma becomes hopeful this is going to be a normal occurrence, their sort of routine if you will. He’s gained comfort in it, in fact craving the presence of Kuroo quite often.

Hope can be a dangerous thing, Kenma figures. Because while these are things he wants, there’s no way for him to tell if it’s the same for Kuroo. And he’s not about to go asking it outright, either.

Kenma decides in a matter of seconds, it’s a mixture of everything leaving him flustered, raising his book to cover his warming face.

“You saying that makes me think it really isn’t.”

* * *

On his way to a lesson with Sugawara, Lev spots Kenma walking along the courtyards and pauses in his game with a few other kids.

“Kenma! You haven’t visited class in forever!” He calls, running towards him.

 _It’s only been a few weeks_ , Kenma reflects. He visited to demonstrate a few light spells to the kids in the training yard, as requested by Kuroo. Apparently, children’s timelines are different from everyone else. “I apologize Lev, I’ve been busy,” he amends.

Lev crosses his arms, unsatisfied. “Hmph. Kuroo says so too, but you can’t always be busy!”

“I have a lot of responsibilities,” Kenma assures.

A frown forms onto Lev’s face. “Is it because you don’t like me?” He asks.

“No, Lev. It's not because of you at all.”

But it does nothing to halt the progressing upset building in Lev. He lowers his head and Kenma winces. Too early- too early for deescalating a temperamental child.

“If you’d like, the next day you have off from school we can go to my house for tea and cake,” Kenma offers.

In the time it takes to blow out a candle, Lev springs up, his heartbroken pout transformed into amazement.

“Cake!?” Lev repeats.

* * *

In the trip from the castle to his estate, Lev gazes at the packed streets through the small curtain drawn from the carriage window. Their carriage comes to a stop and Lev sticks his entire head out of the small window, attempting to spot the obstruction.

“Lev, it’s probably a group of people walking by. Have a seat on the bench,” Kenma instructs.

“’Kay!” He agrees, but Kenma hears him let out a sound of awe, thus keeping him drawn to whatever it is he’s curious about. Lev shifts himself forward, fitting his shoulders and chest through the small space. Kenma hisses in a breath or air, forgetting how small the child is despite his height.

“Lev,” Kenma repeats, a little louder.

Lev pushes onto the balls of his feet, leaning out further. “I know, it’s just, I need to- _woah!_ ”

He loses balance, shifting too much weight forward. Kenma reaches an arm out to grab him but isn’t swift enough and winces as Lev topples out of the carriage window. Kenma hears a few thuds, but no immediate screech of pain. He rushes for the carriage door, giving the rider an order to remain stopped.

Kenma steps down from the carriage and looks to the ground below the window, the logical spot Lev would be. Yet, the space is empty and as Kenma raises his head to search their immediate surroundings, he spots Lev running around the corner of the street.

“Lev!” Kenma barks, giving immediate chase to him. The street he rounds is large and busy, filled with people buying and selling various goods at the many stands. In his peripheral, Kenma catches Lev’s silver head of hair in the crowd, continuing down the street.

Someone bumps his shoulders and Kenma’s stomach shoots upwards. He tries not to panic, following Lev through the busy street and weaving around people. Lev either has selective hearing or is deaf to his name being called. Kenma already hates the attention his yelling is drawing, trying not to let his increasing heartrate and shallow breaths deter him from the matter at hand. It’s getting progressively worse, sweat lining his hairline, behind his neck and his hands. Kenma lets out a small sound of discomfort and picks up his pace. Too many people in this crowded space.

He catches Lev running into a small alley between two buildings. Kenma slips into it behind him, thankful there’s nobody else in the spot and using it to recollect himself. Lev is further down the alleyway, kneeling to the ground and speaking, but to Kenma his words are indistinguishable. He leans a shoulder against one of the buildings, panting heavily. He feels like he just spent hours training with Kuroo.

Seconds later, Kenma sinks to the ground in a crouch, his gloved hands pressed over his eyes. His skin is drenched in sweat beneath the leather layer and Kenma has the urge to rip them off and leave them behind in this small, barren alley. His hands are so hot and irritated.

_In through your nose,_

Kenma inhales.

_Out through your mouth._

He exhales.

He repeats this process, until he’s jolted by Lev’s voice. He lowers his hands and there the child stands, directly in front of him. A black, fluffy kitten is tucked in his arms.

“Are you okay?” Lev asks him.

He shouldn’t be the one asking. They wouldn’t be in this situation if the stupid kid wasn’t leaning out the window like a fool just to chase a stray kitten. All things considered, Kenma finds his genuine concern endearing.

“Yes. Let’s get to the carriage,” he urges, standing up and using the wall for support while the dizziness clears.

“Um, Kenma…” The boy trails off, glancing down at the kitten.

“Bring the cat.”

“Kuroo says we can’t keep animals into our rooms,” Lev murmurs.

In the heat of wanting to return to his home as quick as possible, Kenma utters his next words hastily.

It’s how he ends up volunteering to house a stray kitten.

* * *

Lev kicks his feet happy out under the table, knocking Kenma’s shin and apologizing. He’s already finished his first slice of chocolate cake, whereas Kenma has consumed a mere few bites of his own. He sees minute quirks in the boy that remind him of Shouyou, and wonders if it's why he's so naturally fond of him. Lev's wide eyes are trained not so subtly on Kenma’s barely touched slice. Kenma slides it over to him wordlessly. Lev gives him an excited, but indecisive stare and Kenma nods reassuringly.

He hums happily on a bite. “Say, Kenma. Are you cold?”

“No,” Kenma answers, sipping his tea.

“Why do you always wear gloves then?”

Ah, he played right into that one. Should’ve anticipated it based on the odd question in the first place.

“I’m more comfortable this way,” he explains. It’s a half-truth, in the sense of dealing with hot, sweaty hands and sticky leather gloves is a better option than additional eyes trained on him upon seeing the scars.

“Do you ever take them off?” Lev asks, genuinely curious.

Kenma breathes out an amused sound. “Yes, when I bathe or sleep.”

“Can you do it now?”

“Lev, it’s not polite to ask things like that.”

“Oh. Why not?”

"People choose what parts they want to show and cover. Asking them to remove part of their clothing can make them uncomfortable.”

“Sorry Kenma, I don’t want you to be uncomfortable!” Lev cries, slapping a hand on the table. He pushes his chair out, standing up and reaching for the pants on his right ankle. “I used to never wear shorts, cause of these,” he stops to point at the exposed skin on his leg.

Kenma tries not to react but his facial expressions always gain some sort of instinctive control. The scars travel upwards beyond the space Lev shows him and they're the exact same shapes as the one's Kuroo showed him on his arm. Kenma has to remind himself to breathe.

He looks at his hands, holding nothing but disdain towards them, then pinches the leather at the tip of his fingers, wiggling it loose. He repeats the motion for each finger and slides the gloves off.

Lev ogles at his scarred hands and shuffles closer. “Does it hurt?” He whispers.

“No,” Kenma says.

“Can I touch it?”

Kenma inhales. “Sure.”

Lev places his fingertips on his scarred skin lightly. He strokes the skin in small back and forth motions, tracing the lines of a burn extending from his wrist to the second knuckle of his forefinger.

“It’s soft,” he comments.

* * *

It's reading and writing session, so Kuroo raises a questioning head to the footsteps approaching his side and observes Lev, standing close.

“Can I talk to you, Kuroo?” Lev whispers to him.

“Now? Have you finished your readings?” He asks, arching a brow and already knowing the answer.

“No but I can’t think right now. This morning I was walking from breakfast to class and a servant took me aside.”

Kuroo straightens up and he turns to the child fully. “What happened?”

Lev fiddles with his hands. “They told me I shouldn’t trust Kenma.”

Kuroo is silent. He’s going to have to handle this one delicately. He scans over the class. The rest have their heads turned down in their books.

“Everyone,” he calls. “Lev and I are going to step outside a talk for a moment. Keep reading until we return.”

They murmur out a collective agreement and Kuroo uses the small break to try and think up a way to approach this. Lev’s behaviour has been great recently, and he’s worried saying the wrong thing might wreck a lot of good progress.

The door to the classroom closes and Kuroo still doesn’t have a sure answer. He decides to try being honest.

“Did they say why you shouldn’t trust him?”

Lev shakes his head. “All they said was Kenma isn’t good, and I shouldn’t trust him.”

He avoids Lev's gaze. Way to bear no burden out of telling the kid about this in the first place. Now it’s up to him to do the hard work. Ugh.

“Why would they say that Kuroo?” Lev asks, his voice unsure.

_Oh, one small reason or two. Maybe cause of what his dad did to the late King, and nearly Hinata as well, so some believe Kenma has some part in the assassination. Oh, and by the way, did you know his dad and grandfathers were the ones who imprisoned and scarred kids like you and me back at the Institute? That's a secret not many know, crazy right? Maybe you can get why people aren’t too keen on him. I wanted a go at him myself when I found out he'd been lying about it. But the thing is, Kenma’s not bad like them, or at least, I think he's not. Would you really believe me though, now that I've told you all of this?_

Fuck, he is not prepared to be having this conversation. Is there any way to simplify it, without completely brushing over key parts? Kuroo takes a breath. He did agree to being here, which means taking care of the uncomfortable conversations too.

“Kenma’s father got in big trouble and some people think because of it, Kenma must be bad too.”

“But that’s not fair!” Lev cries, balling his fists. "Kenma’s isn't bad just cause his dad is!”

“What do you think of Kenma?”

Lev contemplates this with the concentration only a six-year-old can manage, a hand brought to his mouth. “He’s quiet, and nice. Plus, he brought Fluffy to the castle last night at bedtime!"

Kuroo’s brows shoot up. “Fluffy?” He repeats.

Lev nods happily. “You should ask Kenma about her! She stays at his house.”

“Right well, do you trust Kenma, Lev?”

“Yea.”

“Then don’t listen to the person who told you otherwise.”

In the evening, Kuroo lays up in his bed wondering if he said the right thing.

* * *

Kenma has an unlucky day leaving him with spontaneous back to back meetings from the morning to midday. He’s left running on the last bout of his energy by the end of them, having stayed at the castle overnight the day prior. His body practically floats by in soft steps, oblivious to anything more than a few feet in front of himself. He knows he’s not going to manage getting to the carriage outside and get home, so he treks to the guest hall and approaches one of the first doors, knocking and waiting for a response from the other side. There’s no indication, so Kenma tests the door and finds it to be unlocked, slipping inside.

Kenma zones in on the bed immediately. He swings the door closed and all but runs to the mattress, flopping down on it and rolling himself in the blankets. He dozes off instantly, his body succumbing to the comfort of the large bed.

He wakes up and it appears his intended nap turned into a full rest judging by the darkness around him. Candles are lit across the room, and Kuroo is sitting at the small table in the corner of the room, his head downturned. At first, Kenma simply lays still and watches Kuroo, content with him not knowing he’s being observed. But he hears sniffling and Kuroo wipes at his face, so Kenma sits up and the movement catches Kuroo’s attention.

Neither of them says anything at first. Kuroo is the one to break the silence. “Have a good sleep?” He teases, but it’s at maybe half its usual capacity.

“You said I should find a more private spot to nap,” Kenma counters.

He hears a snicker. “True. You looked comfy, I almost joined you.”

 _I wouldn’t have minded,_ Kenma’s instinct says. Instead, he remains speechless. Kenma settles his feet on the ground, seated on the edge of the bed. Does he walk over and sit in the other empty seat at the table? He has already made himself comfortable in Kuroo’s guest room, so he probably wouldn’t mind.

Still, there’s hesitation. “What are you reading?” He asks, not facing Kuroo’s direction.

“Journal entries. I have the kids do one every week,” Kuroo explains. “They’re not for grades or anything-” he pauses. “I think it’s good outlet for them.”

Kenma stands up, his legs stiff. He shuffles towards the decanter sitting atop a vanity and pours two glasses. “What do they write about?”

“Anything and everything. Occasionally I offer them a topic, but I ask them to write whatever they want. Remember Aone?” He asks.

Kenma ponders, setting one cup in front of Kuroo and sitting in the unoccupied chair. From to glow of the candlelight, Kenma catches the transparent layer of tears over Kuroo’s eyes. “The silent one?” He asks.

Kuroo nods, gazing down into the book. “He writes the most by far. Kid’s got a bright mind.”

Kenma sips his wine.

“I want you to read one,” Kuroo says, shuffling through the stack on the table. Kenma accepts it and reads the entry. One turns into two, then three and so on. The two of them finish the decanter of wine together, reading the different journals. Kenma cries at some, and Kuroo does too. In the midst of their reactions, Kenma weighs up how to comfort Kuroo and if he should in the first place. Would Kuroo slap away an extended hand? Kenma isn’t sure his heart could endure the rejection after reading some of these journal entries.

The wine has clouded his rationality though. Kenma sets down a journal on the stack. “I worry about becoming like him,” he murmurs.

Kuroo raises his head from the journal in his lap. “Huh?”

The filter between thoughts passing to mouth is nonexistent. The wine leaves nothing to keep the raw words at bay.

“My father. I catch myself wondering if I have his same evil in me.”

“Everyone has evil in them,” Kuroo counters.

“Not like that. He’s got a unique evil, and I’m sure you know what I mean.”

Kuroo frowns. “You don't inherit evil,” he retorts.

“No,” Kenma agrees. “It’s something you learn through actions, words and a lot of experience,” he trails off. “I know how to think like him. I’m the very product of his shaping.”

“You’re overthinking it,” Kuroo assures. His voice is growing stern.

Kenma continues to roll notions off his tongue, out into the open. “If it’s there, do you think it’s possible to keep it at bay? The evil inside of me? Or will it fester, unnoticed until it consumes me and it’s too late?”

He detects Kuroo's glower and how he reaches for Kenma’s near empty wine cup and moves it out of reach. “Starting to sound like nonsense at this point.”

“This isn’t some drunk philosophy,” Kenma clips back, his fists balled in his lap. “I’m serious. Many in the castle view me as some kind of traitor. I’m sure you’ve heard all sorts of rumours about me.”

Kuroo hisses air out through clenched teeth. He sifts through the pile of journals, picking one out and flipping to a page. He accepts it wordlessly, scanning the large, sloppy lines.

_It was a good day. Me and Kenma ate cake. It was soooo yummy. I can eat cake all day, but nobody will let me, even if I ask nice._

_Kenma is so cool. We found a kittin and he took her home. Her name is Fluffy and I sayd she looks like Kuroo. Kenma made a funny sound when I sayd that. He didn’t tell me why._

_I hope Kenma is my friend forever. I want to ate cake with him and get good at chess. He sayd I will get better in time. When I am big like him, I will beat him!”_

“His spelling could use some work.” Kenma whispers, blinking a tear out. 

“There might be similarities between the two of you, but it’s to be expected,” Kuroo says, his voice knowing. “At the core, you and your father are two completely different people.”

“It’s assuring to hear from you,” Kenma admits.

Kuroo’s smile is exhausted and Kenma senses the same in himself. He watches him stand and flick his head in the direction of the bed. Kuroo walks over to a bag on top of the vanity, digging through it. He shifts his gaze over to Kenma, who hasn’t moved.

“Up for a game?” He asks.

Kenma recognizes the cards, straightening up. He really enjoyed playing Hanafuda with Daichi, despite the uncomfortable situation. He agrees, standing and giving notice to the spinning in his head. Hopefully he’s not too inebriated to play a decent game. Kuroo deals out the cards between them, seated at the head of the bed.

Ten minutes into the game, Kenma falls asleep.

He wakes up in the morning, warm and curled into a much too stiff pillow. Clarity breaks his hazy mind and Kenma blinks heavily lids before he concludes he is currently _on top_ of Kuroo, face tucked into his neck.

Kenma raises himself slowly, braving a glance down at Kuroo and hoping, _praying_ he is not awake-

A pair of sleepy eyes size him up, accompanied by a grin.

“Cute hair,” Kuroo comments.

Kenma scrunches his nose and grabs a pillow to press over Kuroo’s face, the only thing he can think of good enough to stop this embarrassment. Kuroo flails his arms around dramatically, acting as if Kenma is actually putting any pressure on him. Kenma smiles in amusement, easing himself off of Kuroo and reaching for the loose band in his hair. He sits on the edge of his bed, gathering his hair into a clean knot behind his head.

“Do you always sleep wearing the gloves?” Kuroo asks.

Kenma isn’t expecting the question. “No,” he answers.

Kuroo doesn’t say anything until Kenma is at his door, heading home for a much-needed bath and change of clothes.

“Next time, don't wear them in front of me.”

Kenma thinks Kuroo holds zero manners, especially after a comment like that, but the promise of _next time-_ it sends a springing sensation up the back of Kenma’s neck. It awakens the word. That risky, yet potentially rewarding word-

Hope.

“Maybe.”

It’s such a dangerous thing. It makes Kenma yearn for Kuroo, in ways he can’t totally comprehend.

* * *

Going to Shouyou isn’t exactly a guaranteed solution, but it’s the best option Kenma has. He’s definitely not going to Oikawa for advice on this kind of stuff, lest he suffer a painful stretch of teasing and laughter. Plus, the extent of his advice would be limited to sex or some other debauchery Kenma has no desire to hear. He probably could have gone to Sugawara about it, having learned from their lessons how emotionally intelligent the man is. But approaching him would mean exposing his hand to someone close to Kuroo, and well, he’s certain word would get back to him about it.

Shouyou is charismatic in his own intuitive way and understands people. So, Kenma brings it up over tea following dinner, when the servants are busy cleaning food and dishes.

“How can you tell if a person is infatuated with you?”

Shouyou pauses mid-bite in his cake. “Well,” he mulls. “Different ways. They might tell you, or show you.”

“Show you how?” Kenma asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Kenma,” Shouyou comments knowingly.

He sighs, sipping his tea. “I can’t tell if he’s being mocking me or being serious.”

“Who?”

“Kuroo.”

“Ah,” Shouyou nods in understanding. “You think he’s in love with you?”

Kenma chokes on his mouthful. Shouyou passes a napkin and Kenma pats the corners of his mouth, regaining his breath and leveling a disbelieving leer in the King’s direction.

“That’s absurd. I said _infatuated,_ ” and it's a stretch the longer his mind worries on it.

And it is. Really, the best Kenma could ever expect between them would be acquaintances, maybe friends. Love? Highly unlikely, if not impossible. Yet, beyond the logic, the idea of it sends a nervous spike down his chest. It was a bad idea to talk about this- Kenma begins to regret mentioning it.

“No need to get upset,” Shouyou insists. “The best way to figure out what he’s thinking is to ask him. Feel him out, you know?”

He doesn’t.

“Saying what you mean can be hard,” Shouyou acknowledges in place of Kenma's silence. “But if you let yourself open up and trust Kuroo, he might do the same for you.”

* * *

Kenma hears commotion on the first floor of the grand entrance as he's walking to the exit, and peers over the railing. A group of servants are talking hurriedly, too far away for Kenma to distinguish anything. He steps down the stairs, already imagining dropping down onto his bed. 

“Lord Kozume!” One of the servants calls to him. He flinches at the outburst, watching her run up to him.

“Have you seen Lev? We can’t find him anywhere!” She cries.

Kenma shakes his head. “I haven’t. You’ve checked the courtyards?”

“Twice.”

“The stables?”

“Yes.”

“What about the library?”

She perks up. “No, we haven’t searched there yet.”

Kenma’s frowns. “Is everything okay?”

“He um,” she pauses turning to observe the other servants a moment. “He hurt one of the children during training and ran off.”

“Kuroo is tending to the child?” He assumes.

“They’re in the infirmary," she confirms. "He asked me and a few others to search for Lev and watch the other kids.”

“Good. Try the library. I will search a couple other places,” he offers.

“Oh, no!” She insists. “Please My Lord, you needn’t offer to help.”

“It’s fine. If I find him, I’ll bring him to his room.”

She bows her head at him and he exits the castle, ignoring the averted or pointed gazes of the other servants he walks by. Kenma checks the front courtyards himself to be sure, going so far as to peeking inside of flower bushes and accidentally scaring one of the gardeners.

If not here, the stables or the library, then where? Lev loves playing outside, and if the incident happened in the training yard, he would’ve been spotted running inside by a guard. So, he has to be around here somewhere, right?

Kenma gets an idea, going to the stables. The servants may have searched the inside, but they probably didn’t consider where Lev likes to play. Kenma heads behind the stables, where several crates of extra feed are placed. There also happen to be a few cats lazing around. One of them meows at him.

“Lev?” He calls out quietly.

He thinks he hears a sound, walking towards the stacks of crates and spotting the child tucked hidden between a few. His knees are brought to his chest, his arms coiled tight around them. Kenma calls his name a second time and it causes him to wail louder.

He kneels in front of the boy. “What’s the matter?”

Lev raises his head, eyes shut and uncontrollably shaking. “I-I hurt Yaku!” He cries, hiccupping. “I was trying to show him a new spell and I lost control-" he starts hyperventilating, unable to keep talking.

Kenma shuffles closer. “Breathe, Lev.”

He keeps hiccupping, choking on his breaths.

“You can do it.”

“I-I,” Lev heaves, unable to steady himself.

“Like this,” Kenma pauses to demonstrate. “In through your nose,” and Lev does the same, shaky. “Out through your mouth,” he exhales breathing a big exhale out. “Let’s do it together, okay?”

Lev nods, copying Kenma's patterned breathing save for the occasional hiccup here and there. They keep going until Lev’s fit calms and the child is left worn out. He crawls towards Kenma from his tucked away spot, wrapping his small arms around Kenma’s shoulders and pressing his head to his shoulder.

“I didn’t mean to hurt him,” he muffles against Kenma’s robes, probably wetting them in tears and snot.

“I know you didn’t,” Kenma murmurs, cupping the back of his head and holding him close.

“He’s never going to like me again.”

“That’s not true,” Kenma says, pulling away. Lev’s eyes are rimmed red, ready to spill a new wave of tears.

“He might be a bit hurt, but Yaku knows it was an accident.”

Lev continues to sniffle.

“Can I tell you a story, Lev?”

He hums an agreement, wiping away a tear with the heel of his hand.

“I hurt Kuroo once.”

“On accident?”

Kenma purses his lips. “Sort of.”

“Was he mad?”

“Yes, he was. I never expected him to forgive me either and it made me sad. Really sad. But I apologized and I assured him I wouldn’t make the same mistakes. It took time, but he forgave me, and now…” He trails off.

Well, now he’s not sure. Kenma also is not really sure if he’s fully forgiven either, but it’s obvious Kuroo doesn’t hate him anymore.

“What did you do to hurt him?” Lev asks.

“It’s a story for another day. Let’s get you cleaned up and settled for a nap, okay?”

Lev nods, reaching for Kenma’s sleeve as they walk.

***

Kenma is nose deep into a book and thinks he hears a faint sound. He pays it no mind, unsure if he’s confused it among the cracking of the fire burning next to him.

“ _Kyanma!_ ” He hears faintly outside the room. Fluffy raises her head from her curled-up position next to him at the direction the screech came from.

Kenma purses his lips, closing his book and stepping outside the room. Kuroo is midway up the stairs, and pauses upon noticing him standing at the railing of the mezzanine.

“You all alone? I was banging on the door for ages."

“I usually send the servants home after dinner.”

“At least lock the damn place,” Kuroo criticizes.

“Then you wouldn’t have been able to let yourself in,” Kenma replies.

Kuroo glares playfully, ascending the stairs. “I could’ve found a different way to get in.”

“Making locking the door pointless.”

Kuroo scans over the room at the top of the stairs, dropping the pointless argument that could last forever given their stubbornness. “One person for all of this. I bet you’re only ever in your bedroom or reading room.”

Kenma furrows his eyebrows. “I sit outside occasionally at night. Fluffy keeps me company,” he insists.

Kuroo raises a brow. “Great, lets talk there.”

“Okay,” Kenma agrees hesitantly, first excusing himself to go prepare a pot of tea. Kuroo heads outside and Kenma is thankful for the brief period alone, shuffling down the stairs and trying not to let his pesky emotions draw a reaction out of him. He can feel the nerves, Kenma has been good at recognizing their appearance for years now, but they don’t carry the same weight of dread he’s used to. It’s not at all like the alleyway in the city.

It’s a strange sensation, to be nervous about a situation, but also not hate it completely. Kenma brews the herbs and concludes why he doesn’t hate it as he's stepping outside, holding a tray. It’s because he anticipates what Kuroo’s visit brings. Or what it could, should he apply Shouyou's advice.

Outside on the verandah, Kuroo drinks his tea and leans back in his chair, staring over the railing of the estate.

“Lev told me what you said to him,” he says.

“Oh.”

Kuroo glances his way. “He promised Yaku he wouldn’t be as reckless and apologized.”

“How is Yaku?”

“Fine. It wasn’t as bad as I worried.”

“Good.”

“Thanks for your help. He really had me worried,” Kuroo sighs, slumping and shutting his eyes. Knowing he won't be caught, Kenma admires him silently; the drop of his shoulders, the upturn of his chin, exposing a pale throat. He thinks to the morning he woke up curled into the neck, his lips practically pressed to the skin. Something instinctive twists inside Kenma's stomach, and he turns to survey the night sky.

“It was nothing,” Kenma insists.

Kuroo gives him a distasteful sneer. “Didn’t I tell you modesty is boring?”

“All I did was talk to him.”

“And it obviously worked. You know, I didn’t think you’d like him this much,” Kuroo says, straightening up to drink his tea.

“Neither did I,” Kenma admits truthfully. Children have always felt like a foreign species to him, even when he was one. He was lucky to have a chatterbox like Shouyou around to carry his social obligations. He was best friends with the Crown Prince and this alone pleased his father, so he never attempted to make other friends.

Kenma worries his lips between his teeth.

“What is it?” Kuroo asks.

He releases his bottom lip from his teeth, focusing on his tea. “Nothing.”

“Liar.”

Kenma frowns at the reflection in his cup. “He could hate me the day he finds out who I really am.”

“It won’t matter if he does. He’ll come around.”

He looks up at Kuroo curiously. “How do you know?”

“Because I did.”

His inhale is cut short, Kenma’s chest so tight he can’t suck much air in. He holds his cup rigidly, knowing his hands will be trembling once he sets it down. He doesn’t know what to say, what should he? He tries to do what Shouyou advised, to be open. The thing is, he doesn’t know what that really means. Is he supposed to say he wants to stand, walk over and drop himself into Kuroo’s lap?

“Anyway, I wanted to pass along my thanks. Still on for training tomorrow evening?”

Kenma nods, still unable to find his voice. He’s so strangely helpless right now.

“Right, until then,” he excuses, standing and walking passed Kenma. He hears a meow and peers over his shoulder at Fluffy, who stands in front of Kuroo and meows again.

“Ah, you must be Fluffy,” he murmurs, crouching down to offer his hand. She sniffs him and brushes her face against his fingers. Kenma watches the scene intently, so oddly enthralled by the simplicity.

“Kuroo,” he calls.

The man turns and Fluffy brushes her tail along his leg.

“Stay,” Kenma requests. 

Kuroo’s answer holds no hesitation, smiling pleasantly and resuming in petting the kitten. “Okay.”

***

In his room, Kenma reaches a hand to remove the band in his hair.

“Wait,” Kuroo calls. Kenma fixes a confused gaze his way. “Can I take it out?”

He’s hesitant, not expecting the request. Still, Kenma nods and counts his increasing heart rate as Kuroo comes into reaching distance. He swallows and turns to give him view of the band. One of Kuroo’s hands lays on his head, the other gripping the leather tie and loosening it. The carefulness and intimacy of such a small action has Kenma losing count of the beating in his chest.

The knot comes free and Kenma’s hair spills to his shoulders. The hand resting on his head cards through the strands, from root to tip. Goosebumps trail down his body, and Kenma closes his eyes. It’s nice, the repetitive motion of his hand, smoothing his hair down nicely-

“Are you _petting_ me?” Kenma asks in dawning horror.

“Are you liking it?” Kuroo rebuttals.

Kenma turns and glares, but Kuroo wears his cocky, knowing smile that compels a nervous twitch in one of Kenma’s finger. Before he can get a word in, Kenma cuts him off.

“Don’t,” Kenma says.

Kuroo’s brows draw down. “What?”

“You were going to say something embarrassing.”

“Hmph,” Kuroo sounds, dragging the back of his finger down the side of Kenma’s face. “Didn’t you ask me to stay so we could do embarrassing things?”

Kenma sighs, irritated.

“I have to be sure this is really what you want, you know,” Kuroo continues. “You’re not the most forward person.”

“I asked you to _stay_ ,” Kenma emphasizes.

“Yea but-” he promptly decides this is enough already, grabbing Kuroo by the shoulders-

_How do you tell if someone if infatuated with you?_

_Well, different ways. They might tell you, or show you._

-and kisses him on his mouth.

A hand guides his head. They kiss again, softer and controlled. Kuroo pulls away to snug his hands down Kenma’s body, passing over his backside and resting behind his thighs. At the point of contact, Kenma’s skin sparks and all of a sudden, the hands grip his thighs and lift. He’s pulled tight against Kuroo, and keeps hold of his shoulders for balance. Their lips meet, and Kenma notices how he begins to crave the sensation it brings. How good it is, and how it taunts him into wanting more.

Kuroo carries him across the room and sits on the edge of his bed, keeping Kenma close and settling him on his lap. They pull apart and Kuroo is still grinning like he’s got some secret he’s dying to share.

“I never knew if this day would really come,” he says.

Kenma eyes him warily while Kuroo snugs a hand on the small of his back, his touch warm through the layers of Kenma’s clothes. Kenma grips his shoulders tighter.

“I mean, I had a hunch you had a thing for me, but I wasn’t sure you’d actually act on it.”

Kenma pulls a face. He’s so smug right now, sitting beneath his hips and acting as if he just beat him in a game of chess or Hanafuda. It’s annoying and a little unnerving, but dammit Kenma also sort of enjoys it in a strange way. It’s making him wonder where his judgement starts to run shaky, but he also doesn’t have a tendency to submit to Kuroo's ego.

He adjusts his position on Kuroo’s thighs, closing his legs nimbly around Kuroo’s hips. Kenma reaches his hands to the sides of Kuroo’s face, angling his head down. “You love hearing yourself talk, don’t you?” Kenma asks lowly.

The smile falters and Kuroo shifts underneath him. It’s a nice sight, taking him by surprise if just for a moment. Kenma leans forward to kiss him, hoping he’ll shut up for at least a brief period of time. Enough for them to get comfortable longer than a minute without him running that teasing mouth. Kuroo’s arms fit closely around his middle, and Kenma lets his hands fall from Kuroo’s jaw. He rests his arms on Kuroo’s shoulders, bringing his hands together behind his head.

Kuroo hums and his hands slide up and down Kenma’s back. All of these minor things- the puckering sounds of their lips pulling away only to join again and again, the warmth of Kuroo’s hands touching him, the small sound he made. They all do things to Kenma; they make his guard fade away as if nonexistent in the first place. They make his hands work behind Kuroo’s head, fingering the gloves off.

He drops them onto the mattress and resumes holding Kuroo’s face in his hands, pleasantly surprised at the tingling it produces in his fingertips. What a different effect it has on him to touch Kuroo free of the layer on his skin.

Kuroo lets out another sound, louder than the previous. His hands travel down Kenma’s sides to grab him by the hips and pull him closer. It’s a slight contact, the brushing of their groins together, but Kenma holds Kuroo tighter to steady the electric feeling striking him between his legs. Kuroo rolls his hips forward again, and kisses Kenma deeper. His tongue inches over his lips. A chill Kenma finds to be enthralling shakes him, and he parts his lips for Kuroo to bring him in closer.

Whenever they shift against one another, Kenma's head deteriorates further into misty lust. The firmness beneath his robes pressing into his own heightens his excitement further. Kenma finds himself trying not to lose his breath, noticing their pace is picking up gradually. Each kiss is a reward. Every touch of Kuroo’s hands encourages Kenma further. This lust he carries continues to build and build.

Kuroo reaches down between their bodies, shuffling his pants down enough to expose himself. Kenma’s heart kicks extra loudly and he averts his gaze. Kuroo chuckles and lays a hand on the band tying his robe together.

“Don’t get shy,” Kuroo encourages.

“I’m not,” Kenma protests quietly.

Kuroo kisses him delicately. It helps comfort Kenma in the midst of the wonderful disarray in his body.

“Are too,” Kuroo mumbles on his lips.

"Am not."

Kuroo lifts his hand from the band and brushes some of Kenma’s hair from the side of his neck. He presses his lips to the skin, and Kenma's shoulders tremble, unable to remain still.

Kuroo’s lips ease on the pressure. “Sensitive,” he whispers into Kenma’s skin.

Kenma presses his face into Kuroo’s hair, huffing and thinking his whole body is probably covered in some kind of flush. How can Kuroo have such confident control over the situation with his erection pressing against Kenma? His head grows light thinking on it.

Kuroo’s tongue sweeps over his skin in one of his kisses. Involuntarily, Kenma rocks his hips forward and hears a grunt from Kuroo. His heart comes up in his throat, but it’s not enough. He wants to- no, he _needs_ to be closer to Kuroo.

Kenma raises his head and leans backward to separate himself from Kuroo. He doesn’t say anything, simply reaching for the knot tying his robe together. He gives a tug and it loosens in a fluid movement, exposing a strip on skin from his neck all the way down his hips. Kuroo stares, no trace of a teasing smile to be found. Simply an ignited fire in his eyes, ready to consume Kenma in hot flames. He welcomes it, no resistance present.

“You’re too much,” Kuroo growls, sliding an arm beneath his robe to wrap around him and pull him forward. Kenma whimpers and Kuroo grabs both of their erections. He has to lower his forehead to Kuroo’s shoulder to steady himself.

How can he say that, when his touch essentially sets Kenma off? He licks his lips, heaving in short breaths and trying not to twitch from Kuroo’s hands, massaging them in unison.

“Kenma, raise your head,” Kuroo orders.

He wants to whine out in protest, but does as told.

“Open your eyes,” he says next.

“I can’t,” Kenma insists.

“Why not?”

If he does, there’s no going back. He’s barely hanging on by a thread, at the mercy of Kuroo’s deft movements. All he can manage is shaking his head, unable to find his voice.

“Does it feel good?”

 _Yes!_ He nearly cries. Kenma nods and exhales shaky.

“Then you should watch,” Kuroo repeats. “Look at how good it is. How good you’re making it,” he pauses, grabbing Kenma’s hand to guide it around their erections. So _embarrassing,_ how does he say things like this?

Stars rocket behind Kenma’s vision and he has no choice but to obey, slitting his eyes open and peering down between their bodies. To Kuroo’s, half-lidded and appearing as distraught as Kenma feels.

Everything tightens at once. His arms, legs and core. His toes curl and jaw clenches. A sound of strangled release leaves Kenma, and Kuroo draws out his name as Kenma finishes. His shoulders shake and wetness coats a spot on his abdomen. Kuroo’s pace doesn’t let up, driving Kenma to throwing his chin up and moaning at the continued jerking.

Kuroo follows shortly behind, whispering out a string of curses and latching onto Kenma’s neck with a bit of teeth. Kenma’s whole body twitches and he clings to Kuroo for dear life, thinking he’s going to fall to pieces if he lets go.

It takes time for them to catch their breaths. Kuroo initiates movement first, pulling his head up and kissing Kenma gently. He accepts the comfort it brings, body coming down off the intense rushes of pleasure. Kuroo grabs the bottom hem of his shirt and wipes away the mess before removing it and tossing the dirtied clothing somewhere across the room.

Kuroo smirks at his disapproving stare, manoeuvring them further onto the bed and under the blankets.

* * *

Kenma wakes first the next day, on his side and tucked to Kuroo’s chest. He tilts his chin, studying Kuroo’s sleeping features. He's peaceful like this, a sight to behold. Even his wildly spiky hair sticking up in different directions, Kenma finds this to be special. He raises a hand, placing it to Kuroo’s jaw lightly.

The stark contrast between Kenma’s scarred hand and Kuroo’s unsullied, handsome face keeps his hand in place for a few extra seconds. Slowly, Kenma’s thumbs brushes along his cheek. He glides his fingers down the side of his face, ghosting over Kuroo’s lips.

Upon contact, Kuroo kisses his fingers and Kenma flinches. A small smile breaks across Kuroo’s face, but his eyes remain closed.

“Can I peek?” He murmurs. Kuroo’s voice is low, still filled with the grit of sleep.

“No.”

Kuroo’s eyebrows furrow. “Why not?”

“Because.”

Kuroo cracks an eye open anyway and Kenma purses his lips. Kuroo opens the other and studies his hand for a couple painstakingly drawn-out seconds before wrapping his own around Kenma's and kissing the scarred skin. He closes his eyes again, keeping their hands together and tucked under his chin.

Kenma continues to observe him.

“By the way, you’re beautiful with your hair down.”

He presses his warming face to Kuroo’s bare chest.


	21. (Ep) Take Me In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Round three baby!!! minor spoilers in this one... just for one second and it's only the a name of a character.
> 
> also, anyone watching jujutsu kaisen? the most recent episode hurt me...a lot

Akaashi is close to the fort, hauling his targets from morning practice. He focuses on the ground as he walks, his steps light and fluid. The tingle of cold on his ears and the tip of his nose have long faded since the sun’s rising. These days, it continues to grow warmer and warmer earlier. He should pull his summer clothes out from deep in his laundry chest. Oh, and his bedding should be washed today as well.

His mind occupied by planning tasks, Akaashi is startled by a yell coming from the direction of the fort and his foot catches a root in the ground. Akaashi stabilizes himself before he tumbles and drops his targets, picking up his pace towards the treeline. That was not just any yell; it was one Akaashi has come to recognize in recent passing.

 _Ah_ , his mind pieces. Akaashi stops at the treeline, observing Bokuto engaged in a spar with Daichi in front of the fort. Iwaizumi also watches from a distance, arms crossed and studying Bokuto intently. Akaashi cannot say he blames him; Witnessing the knight move is enthralling, in a sense. Each step, shift of his weight and swing of his arm is ruled by great control and power.

Akaashi stays put because he has a striking hunch Bokuto will become distracted at the sight of him. He knows it is simply a spar, but another part of him is taking the time to try and piece together the reason for Bokuto’s visit. The knight is dressed in his usual armour, and his horse is standing by the steps. He is on his own, but he must be here on Kingdom business.

It is a drawn-out rally, but Bokuto is able to parry one of Daichi’s attacks and use the opportunity to counter strike. He offers a hand to Daichi and pulls him up from the ground afterwards, clapping his shoulder while praising his fighting ability.

Akaashi finally steps forward. Iwaizumi is the first to call out a good morning. Bokuto’s head turns around, scanning over the clearing and he exudes excitement the second their eyes meet.

“Akaashi!” He yells, bounding towards him at an alarming speed. Very briefly, Akaashi imagines a scenario in which Bokuto slams both him and his targets into pieces. Unfortunately, the way Bokuto shows no sign of slowing as he gets closer and closer seems to imply such a scenario might actually happen. It is a wonder he can run so fast wearing all the armour.

He cannot attempt to hold his hands out in front of him. “Bokuto-san!” He calls in a slight panic.

Apparently, it is enough indication. Bokuto all but digs his heels into the ground, stopping close in front of Akaashi.

“Need some help?” He asks fondly.

Akaashi smiles, exhaling. “I would appreciate it.”

Bokuto takes over half of the targets, lessening the load in his arms. Akaashi nods a thanks and is not exactly sure what to say for a moment as they stand together.

But Bokuto beats him to it anyway. “Where should we put these?” He asks, looking at the targets.

“There is a space behind the fort,” Akaashi explains, leading the way.

Bokuto watches Iwaizumi and Daichi beginning to spar. “You never said how strong those guys are,” he comments. “Can you swing an axe around like that too?” He asks playfully.

Akaashi shakes his head. “Not quite. My skill with anything other than a bow leaves much to be desired.”

“Nah, I’m sure you’re being modest!” Bokuto insists. “You must know sword basics.”

Akaashi supposes he has a point. He did grow up spending his days training under his family’s house. His love for archery outshone his desire to learn the sword, so he spent much more effort practicing and continued to master it.

He stops in front of a wooden chest at the back of the fort, next to the stable. “You are correct; however, I can confidently say I am nowhere near Iwaizumi or Kageyama’s skill level.”

Bokuto shrugs, lying the targets down. “Morning training was good?” He asks.

Akaashi agrees, placing the rest of them insides and shutting the chest. “The targets are wonderful.”

“Good, I’m glad!” Bokuto chirps. “Can I say hi now?” He asks.

Akaashi cocks his head. Was him hollering his name minutes ago not supposed to be a greeting in itself?

A grin splits Bokuto’s lips and a hand meets the side of his face, then he leans forward to kiss him. Akaashi did not realize he missed the familiar warmth spreading throughout his entire body until it happens in a matter of seconds.

“It is good to see you, Koutarou,” Akaashi pulls back to say.

Bokuto hums and his free hand rises to hold the other side of Akaashi’s face. Taunting sparks fire off under Akaashi’s skin. It is a little unnerving how much he has missed this.

The corners of Bokuto’s eyes crinkle. “Likewise, Keiji.”

“Did you come bearing news from the castle?” He asks.

“Sort of!” Bokuto chirps, lowering his hands. “I came to tell you I’m being sent on a mission.”

“Oh?”

“I know, it ruins our upcoming plans we had set,” he explains sheepishly.

Akaashi shakes his head. “It cannot be helped. This is your duty, after all.”

“You make it sound so serious!” Bokuto laughs. “We're delivering food and other supplies to a village.”

“Is it the one we encountered during our mission?” 

“Nah, one out west. I shouldn’t be more than a week!” Bokuto explains. “And I oughta get going, I've got some guys waiting for me at the forest’s edge,” he adds.

“You could have had a letter sent instead of travelling so far out of your way,” Akaashi comments. He wonders how long the others have been waiting, or if Bokuto realizes it is not very considerate to them.

Bokuto’s hand meets his waist. “But I wouldn’t have gotten to see you before I go,” he reasons.

Akaashi cannot help but smile. Maybe he is not considerate so either; he wishes Bokuto could stay here instead of leaving.

“So, I’m thinking,” Bokuto eases, the side of his mouth curling up. “When I get back, you can finally teach me how to use a bow.”

Akaashi kisses him, a last one to say goodbye. “It would be my pleasure,” he agrees.

* * *

Since their return to the fort, Akaashi’s life has settled into routine relatively easy. He understands not everyone else is able to do so as quickly as himself, given their circumstances. As a result of this, Akaashi keeps steady observations on the others in his own silent, analytical way and offers help without overtly expressing it. It is in his subtle actions, such as volunteering to go on hunting trips alongside Iwaizumi or keeping Kuroo company at night. He knows most of the heads under this roof are prideful, and coming off overbearing or overtly asking what he can do to help would do nothing other than annoy them.

He is content being at the fort. The constant unpredictability of the mission leaves Akaashi thankful for mundane days at the fort, where his biggest issue is losing an arrow or tearing a rip in his jacket. He has always viewed the place as a safe haven; somewhere to let your guard down and live your days by the rules of your own book. Under this roof, there is a mutual respect for each other, albeit the occasional argument. The others are great companions and they have all accepted him, the relative outsider, into their group. For this, Akaashi could not be more thankful.

Yet, a minute notion etches itself into Akaashi’s mind as days pass, rolling into a full week. It was not so long ago that he was spending days in and out next to Bokuto, listening to him talk about all sorts of things from his journey into knighthood to his parents. Witnessing his awe-striking fighting ability and having him as someone to lean on in hard times. As he reflects, those moments begin to appear further in the past than reality, and a sense of painful lingering associates itself to them.

Akaashi does not expect Bokuto to pay him a visit right away; he has to report to the King and might be getting assigned other duties. Despite this, Akaashi is troubled by the continued lack of word from or of the knight. The day Kageyama leaves for training, Akaashi asks him a favour; to inquire about Bokuto’s mission. Upon his return, Kageyama reveals Bokuto has not reported back to the castle.

Hearing such news leads Akaashi to going an impromptu hunt and bringing back three rabbits. Iwaizumi is pleased to have so much meat for dinner, whereas Sugawara aims an inquisitive gaze his way which means he is probably going to catch onto something soon enough. The hunt proves to be a good distraction, however temporary. Akaashi lays on his bed in the evening, staring at his ceiling and there is nothing to sway his thoughts from Bokuto. From wondering if he is safe. From _hoping_ he is safe.

Weeks continue to progress. Each one passing leaves Akaashi pressing towards the edge of a tall cliff, dropping into a sea of fear and the unknown; the place Bokuto is. Sleep is not a guarantee every night, simply because Akaashi's mind will not shut off. And while he acknowledges the presence of this worry is due to Bokuto’s absence, he also has to wonder if he is simply acting irrationally because of his endearment towards the knight. He knows all too well from experience that plans do not always go accordingly.

Questioning his emotions does relatively nothing to disable the noticeable ache building inside of Akaashi; In the space he has come to reserve in his heart for Bokuto. All of this love he has found in Bokuto, affects him more than he lets on.

Maybe he needed to stay to help with repairs, or ensure the town is secure before departing. Perhaps there are other villages requiring assistance as well; Akaashi would not be surprised if pillages continue for sometime, until bandits and other groups realize the towns and cities are fortified.

The rationalizing is almost worse for him. Having no concrete answer, his mind runs wild and construes all sorts of wild images of what could be happening to Bokuto. Ideas he would rather not entertain make their presence known and it becomes exhausting, trying to convince himself to be unbothered by Bokuto’s continued absence.

One morning, no different than any other, Akaashi decides to take the leap. He waits for breakfast to be finished, patient as always, and announces to the table he is taking a trip to the castle.

***

He certainly did not expect Sugawara of all people to volunteer joining him. He does not question it nor reject his request to stop at an apothecary on their way through the city. Akaashi figures it to be the reason he wants to tag along, and finds no issue in it. They arrive in the mid-afternoon, and the city streets are busy. Since their last visit for the coronation, there have been many repairs to buildings Akaashi recalls being destroyed. It is admirable things are working towards being restored, and in such short passing.

They are acknowledged at the castle gates and granted permission to entire, but a servant insists the King is completely busy for the rest of the day. Akaashi suggests meeting with Captain Ojiro and is informed of his absence. He has also been sent out on a mission.

“There must be someone we can talk to,” Akaashi insists.

“As I have said, those you have asked for are busy or away,” the servant tails off.

“Please!” Sugawara buts in. “We only need a few minutes to get some information. Anyone who would have knowledge about the knights being sent out to aid towns and cities.”

The servant sighs. “I will do what I can,” they appease, directing the two into a tea room on the first floor.

“Thank you, Sugawara,” Akaashi says, seating himself at the table and pouring their tea.

Sugawara grins, blowing steam off his cup. “Course! We’re not leaving here till we get the answers you want, okay?”

Akaashi smiles, a sudden bout of confidence forming from Sugawara’s words.

It disappears the instant Lord Oikawa walks into the room.

***

It is not that Akaashi harbours a particular dislike for the Lord.

“Ah, so you’re curious about Sir Bokuto,” Oikawa repeats, seated across from them at the table.

“I understand Bokuto-san was meant to return from his mission within a week,” Akaashi recalls.

Oikawa nods. “Yes, that sounds correct,” he muses.

“He has not returned though, has he?”

“Nope,” Oikawa replies, sipping his tea.

Rather, he cannot determine Oikawa's intentions, masked under a facade of indifference which bothers Akaashi. “It has been over four weeks with no word. Are you not concerned?”

The Lord shrugs, smiling. “We have a saying around here: no news is good news.”

Akaashi is not convinced, holding Oikawa’s stare.

The Lord releases a breath of amusement, taking another drink. “This is sweet,” he says, gesturing to Akaashi with a wave of his arm. “Your interest in Bokuto,” he clarifies. “Travelling hours to try and find out anything about his whereabouts. You must miss him, being away from each other so long,” he drawls.

Akaashi meets Sugawara’s gaze for a moment. He is also aware of the condescending tone of Oikawa’s voice, judging by the crease between his brows. Akaashi however, does not bat a lash. He is used to this sort of behaviour, and has minimal tolerance for the mind games.

“I do miss him, Lord Oikawa. I am distressed for his safety and I would like your permission to track him and provide any necessary support,” he declares.

Oikawa’s eyes drop, half-lidded and almost leering. “Your calmness creeps me out. How do you keep such a serious exterior?”

“Years of torment,” Akaashi replies, dry as bone.

Oikawa cracks a smile. “At least you're not as boring as you speak, mysterious sniper. You wish to find him on your own?”

“Of course not,” Sugawara jumps in. “Daichi and I will join. Iwaizumi probably will too, once he finds out.”

“Hm,” Oikawa sounds, crossing his arms and pondering. He sizes Akaashi up. “I’ll agree on one condition.”

He is expecting a deal breaker, or something close to it.

“I want you to bring extra provisions to the town. We’ll supply the resources to transport it,” Oikawa explains. “All you need to do is get the convoy there safe.”

“It is reasonable,” Akaashi says. He certainly was not expecting this.

“I assume you want to leave right away.”

“As soon as possible.”

Oikawa finishes the last mouthful of tea. “I’ll arrange for this to take priority. The convoys will be ready tomorrow morning at the city gates.”

Akaashi bows his head. “Thank you, Lord Oikawa. I truly appreciate this.”

The Lord appears uncomfortable by his words, standing up. “Yes well, don’t be surprised if Bokuto was simply seeing to repairs in the town and you got your knickers in a bunch for nothing.”

Akaashi chooses not to admit he believes that would be one of the best possible outcomes. It would give him great relief, not annoyance.

* * *

Iwaizumi and Daichi agree to tagging along as Sugawara predicted. Packing and setting out the next day is light work, but Akaashi’s mind reels as if he is preparing for another daunting mission. He barely sleeps and is the first one up, eager to leave as soon as possible.

Gathering the convoys at the city walls goes smoothly, and so does the trip west. It is a four-day ride to the town and they make good time the entire trip. The outskirts of town are guarded by soldiers, who question them as they approach.

“We are here from the Kingdom,” Akaashi explains. “These wagons carry food, water and other resources for the town. I have a signed letter from the King himself detailing all relevant information.”

He passes the scroll off to a guard, who checks it over and grants them access into the town.

“I am also looking for Sir Bokuto. He is in charge of the platoon in this town, correct?”

“He is, but he’s not here,” the guard explains reluctantly, returning the scroll to Akaashi.

Doubt seeps itself deep into Akaashi’s chest in seconds. He is timid to ask. “Where is he?”

“On a manhunt. He’s been gone for days.”

Akaashi tries to prevent the doubt from evolving into panic. It is as fruitless as attempting to stop oneself from breathing or blinking.

“Let’s deliver the supplies, then we can discuss our next move,” Iwaizumi suggests.

Akaashi agrees, mind hollow and heart heavy.

***

He decides to walk around town after the wagons are dropped off at the mayor’s house, not quite ready to start making plans yet. Akaashi insists to the others he wishes to be alone, and sets off in the streets. Signs of recent trauma are apparent; buildings are patched up and some are completely destroyed. One on the corner he approaches is a skeleton of a structure.

What could have happened for Bokuto to pursue someone so abruptly? He should have asked the guards earlier, instead of reducing himself to someone who could barely form a word. Akaashi figures it should be easy to locate another guard somewhere, and ask them. He needs to find out what direction Bokuto went, so he can pursue him as soon as possible-

Lost in thought, Akaashi is not aware of another person rounding the corner of the street. He bumps into them and is startled by their cry. His reflexes take hold and he reaches out, grasping the forearm of the elderly woman he just nearly took down.

He releases her as soon as she is balanced, stepping back and bowing his head. “Please allow me to express my sincerest apologies. Are you hurt anywhere?”

At first, she was ready to serve him up next to a roast, but now, she seems to reconsider. “My, I don’t think I’ve heard a gentleman speak so pleasantly in years,” she comments.

Akaashi blinks up at her, confused.

“No dearie, I’m not hurt. Thankfully you caught me before I broke a hip,” she says.

His head drops. “Again, I am very sorry. I should have paid greater attention to my surroundings.”

The woman shuffles forward, and Akaashi feels a finger tapping under his chin. He raises his head to a warm smile reaching from her mouth to her wrinkled eyes, full of candor.

“I am only teasing. You look troubled, plum. Would you care for some tea?” She asks, waving a hand to a building down the street, presumably her house.

Had he had not been raised to accept offers like this without hesitation, it would have been easy to decline. He acknowledges his fault too, so Akaashi thanks her and follows inside. It is a single room, cluttered by all sorts of things. It is not terribly messy, but Akaashi can tell simply by the stacks of books on the ground, the table and even the bed, there is not enough space for the number of items inside. A chest sits at the foot of the bed, a large plant sitting atop. There are many others in the room as well, some Akaashi recognizes and some he does not. A few of them hang in woven baskets on the ceiling, and Akaashi thinks Sugawara would enjoy one for himself.

A pot of water is already burning over a small fire in the sectioned off kitchen area of the house, tucked into a stone oven in the wall. Several labelled barrels are lined next to it, alongside another table containing a few dishes. The woman hums as she reaches for a towel and grasps the handle, removing the pot from heat.

“What tea do you drink?” She asks.

Akaashi folds his hands behind his back. “I am happy to have whatever you are making for yourself.”

She titters, not bothering to hide her excitement as she turns around to steep the leaves. “Listen to you, charming my old heart! Such manners, you could teach the brutes around here a thing or two…” She mutters to herself. Glancing over her shoulder, she smiles at Akaashi, waving at the chairs by the table holding a stack of books. “Sit!” She orders.

He walks across the room and listens to the floors creak in odd spots. He recognizes the book on the pile of the stack and reaches for it. How long has it been since he last read this? At least six or seven years.

“Ah, I finished that one recently. The ending was terribly boring,” she laments, shaking her head.

“As was the beginning and middle,” Akaashi adds. “It was Udai’s first book though. A Tale of Two Heads is much better, if you are interested in giving him another chance.”

Her eyes light up. “Such keen taste, for someone so young. What are you doing in a place like this, plum?”

“I was asked to deliver resources from the castle,” Akaashi explains, setting the book down.

She hums, bringing over two cups of tea. Akaashi thanks her and she occupies the opposite seat. “You don’t dress like a guard though.”

“Ah, yes. I do not work in the Kingdom; however, I am familiar with the King.”

The woman pauses, her faded tea cup brought to her lips. She barks out a few cheery laughs. “I knew you were an interesting little thing! How many people can speak such statements, hm?”

“More than you might think. His Highness enjoys the company of many.”

He continues to answer her questions- did he travel alone? How was the trip? Is he staying in town?

At that, Akaashi pauses. “No, I do not intend to. In addition to delivering the aid, I also am searching for a friend. It turns out he is no longer here.”

She hums, finishing her tea. “Well, it is a shame. I am sure you and your friends would enjoy a night’s rest after so much travel.”

She is right. Akaashi stares into the empty tea cup in his hands. “I am worried I do not have the luxury of time on my side.”

“It sounds awfully serious. Is your friend okay?”

“I…do not know,” Akaashi admits.

The chair scrapes against the ground and Akaashi glances up. The woman gathers her cup and his. “Dearie, I cannot speak to the importance of your friend, but you will be in poor shape if you do not give your body rest. How will you help them if you are not well?”

She is saying things that a normal, calm Akaashi would agree with. Her logic is fair, and the others would echo her in the same sort of way if he suggested leaving tonight in pursuit of Bokuto. However, his unstable emotions render all reasoning obsolete. All he can think about is Bokuto, and the unrelenting question: _Where is he?_

Akaashi stands up, thanking her for the tea. “I appreciate your concern.”

“Is this your nice way of saying you don’t care, and you’re going to do what you want anyway?” She tuts.

Akaashi slowly nods his head, not daring to lie.

The woman laughs, probably not expecting his hesitant honesty. “Tell me dearie, what is your name?”

Akaashi flushes, slightly embarrassed it has taken him this long to introduce himself. “Akaashi Keiji.”

“Akaashi, it was a pleasure to meet you. Call me Baachan,” she replies. “And come visit again tomorrow afternoon for tea.”

Akaashi furrows his brows. Did she have a sudden lapse in their conversation?

“I do not intend on being here tomorrow, Baachan,” he says, a tad embarrassed to be using the title.

She grins at him over her shoulder. “If you’d like details on Bo-Bo’s whereabouts, you will intend on it.”

He supposes he could simply ask someone else about Bokuto, one of the guards for instance, yet, Baachan’s insistence somehow manages to sway Akaashi.

* * *

He approaches her house the next day, as she requested. She answers the door, then steps outside and closes it behind her. She is wearing gloves and carries a small, empty basket.

“Look at you, plum!” She expresses, patting his cheek. “You are well rested, I can tell.”

Akaashi swallows uncomfortably. “It is always nice to sleep under a roof,” he affirms. The roads can be temperamental.

Her smile widens, and she starts walking around her house. “See? I tell you,” she hums. “Now come! We have chores to do.”

Akaashi remains still, his expression flattening. _Chores?_

Still, he trails behind the house, where two gardens are situated. One contains flowers and the other, vegetables and fruit. Along the outer wall, a large stack of logs is piled with an axe propped against it.

“Bo-Bo chopped me some firewood, but I’ve already run out. Would you mind?” She asks.

“Of course not,” Akaashi says, but internally, he does mind a bit. He gets to work chopping the logs while she kneels in front of her garden, humming different tunes and harvesting some of the crops. She weeds and waters the plants, wearing a pleasant smile for the entirety of her chores.

He is out of breath and sweating by the end of it. The afternoon sun on his dark clothes does little to help either.

Baachan claps her hands together, ridding the gloves of excess dirt. She mumbles to herself as she rises to her feet, wincing and dropping the gloves into the basket. “Come now. I’ll make us some food.”

Inside, Baachan hands him a rag and a cup of water. Akaashi gratefully accepts both, wiping his face and sipping the drink. Baachan continues to hum as she lights a fire, turning to her basket of food and considering her options.

She snaps her fingers. “Of course!” She exclaims, gathering a few vegetables and prepping them. Akaashi picks up a different book from the stack on the table, and loses himself quickly in the text.

A bowl of curry is placed in front of him sometime later and Akaashi examines it. Baachan sits across from him, digging into her food immediately.

Akaashi takes a small bite, following her lead. “Baachan, this is delicious,” he admonishes.

She giggles. “You’re a sweet boy Akaashi. I get why Bo-Bo is so fond of you.”

He knows she means it in good faith, but the mention of Bokuto invites a lead ball into his stomach.

“Would you please tell me what has happened? Why did Bokuto-san pursue someone?” He asks.

“Such patience. I expected you to ask earlier, but your manners are simply outstanding,” she praises, setting her spoon in her bowl. She gazes across the room, becoming sullen. “It was a terrible day.”

“Since the knights arrived, the town had been safe for weeks. The mayor was worried as soon as they left, a group of bandits would wreak havoc. They killed so many the first time they showed up, it’s no wonder he was worried for our safety. Bo-Bo agreed to staying longer to ensure we were well off. He’s a star, that knight. He offered an extra set of hands for repairs around the town, and to help an old woman like me carry food home.

“I’m not sure what inspired the attack, but a group of men attempted another pillage. I was in front of Ukai’s shop with Bo-Bo when we heard commotion down the street. He dashed towards it, telling me to return home. Nosy bats like me though, we don’t stay put even if we’re told to do so."

She pauses, shaking her head. “Ruthless men, they were. They realized attacking the town was a mistake and resorted to cowardly actions to save their selves. They took a child hostage and used him as leverage to get the knights to drop their weapons. Bo-Bo of course, gave the order and watched the men edge away to the outskirts of the town, a knife to the poor boy’s neck throughout it all. Bo-Bo talked to him the entire time, telling him how brave he was. The men took him far out of the town and Bo-Bo ordered them to release him."

She stops. Her balled fist trembles atop of the table. “What did they do, Baachan?”

She hesitates. “They called him a fool, and cut the boy’s throat before fleeing.”

Silence prevails. He hears Baachan sniffling. “He went after them right away. There were only three, and he took care of one immediately.”

Akaashi’s throat has gone dry, and a single piece of rice is lodged in his throat. He reaches for his water, and the coolness relieves him temporarily. “And he has not returned since,” he infers.

Baachan sighs. “He told the other men to stay back, and he’d return no matter what.”

Four days ago, Akaashi notes.

* * *

He wakes up at dawn as normal and with no targets to practice, Akaashi decides to walk around the outskirts of town. He trails into the open fields, off the path and in the tall grass. Reaching the apex of a hill, he decides to sit and view the sunrise across the field.

There is a lot to think about, now that he has the most up to date information on Bokuto’s whereabouts. He left town five days ago on the northern road, which Akaashi has sight of from his position on the hill.

The group discussed their options the previous night. It came down to two really. The first being, they set out on the northern road and follow Bokuto’s trail, if there is one to be found. They could stop at neighbouring towns to question any sign of his whereabouts. Iwaizumi noted though, just because Bokuto took the north path leaving the town, it does not mean his trail stayed north. His chase could have led him in a completely different direction.

The second option, is to simply wait for his return. Akaashi has an instinctive distaste for it, because he thinks it would prove he was wrong to act so rash and believe he could do anything to save Bokuto. He does not want to go on a fruitless search and drag his friends around in the process, but also cannot tolerate the idea of sitting idly and waiting for the knight's return.

His mind picks apart both options, over and over until the sun is midway up. The drawn-out coo of an owl breaks Akaashi from his trance and as he tries to locate the source, something in his peripheral goes noticed. His neck snaps back in the direction, off towards the peak of another hill in the distance where the northern road disappears.

Akaashi rises to his feet slowly, squinting to get a better view. It is a horse. He cannot tell from his position whether it has a rider or not, being too far away.

His legs take off ahead of his mind supplying the thought, bounding through the grass. It is a bit of a pain to trudge through, but Akaashi does not let up, intent on getting closer. He does not recognize the horse, but it really does not indicate anything. He squints again, thinking there is a person atop, but if so, they are slumped over the horse.

He finally gets close enough to spot a lance attached to the horse. Akaashi’s sprints with a newfound energy, and he releases a yell, loud and clear into the quiet dawn.

“ _Bokuto-san!_ ”

* * *

He jolts from the steed, neck craning to the echoed call. There’s movement in the grass, and someone is shouting his name. Bokuto’s vision attempts to focus, and he blinks once, twice, thrice and-

“Akaashi?” He whispers, brows furrowed. It’s hard for Bokuto to figure out if he’s out of his mind, delirious from exhaustion and lack of sleep. Is that him? For real?

He pulls his horse to a stop, still gawking at Akaashi’s approaching form. He shuffles himself to the side of his horse, dropping to the ground. He feet are unable to support his weight and he crashes to his knees, then slumps along the dirt path.

“Shit,” he mutters, planting the heels of his hands into the ground to prop himself up while Akaashi’s voice calls to him, full of concern.

Warm arms wrap around him, supporting him up. Bokuto raises his head and it’s like witnessing a celestial being, taking in the clear image of Akaashi over top of him in the rays of the early morning. The glow of the sun illuminates his figure and if Bokuto had the strength, he’d lift a hand and rest it against his pretty face. He settles for staring, dazed and half-conscious.

“’Kaashi?” Bokuto murmurs. “What’re you doing here?”

“I had to find you,” Akaashi answers, simple and truthful.

“I’m really glad you did,” Bokuto says, slumping. Having him here like this is a huge relief. One his body falls into immediately, reaching its limit and leaving Bokuto unconscious.

* * *

Getting Bokuto back onto his horse and into the town requires care and patience. Akaashi brings the knight to Sugawara for treatment of his wounds, staying by his side. Multiple bruises, a lash gash on his arm showing early signs of infection and even a few broken bones in one of his feet leaves Sugawara questioning how high Bokuto’s pain tolerance must be to be dealing with these wounds for at least a day. They strip him of his dirty, worn clothes and clean him, dressing Bokuto into fresh ones.

Word of his return gets out quick, and a few soldiers come to check up on him, receiving brief explanations from Akaashi on his condition. As he sleeps, Akaashi goes to Baachan’s house to tell her personally of Bokuto’s return. She envelops him in a great hug upon hearing the news, and invites the two of them for tea when Bokuto is well enough. He agrees, mildly amused and offers to help do laundry. He returns to the mayor’s house later and unsurprisingly, Bokuto is still sleeping. He does so for a good portion of the day.

It is sundown by the time he stirs, releasing incoherent mumbling noises. Akaashi is ready by his side, a borrowed book from Baachan propped open in his lap. He lifts his head to peer at Bokuto, wondering if he is fussing for water or food, but a pair of alert eyes lock onto him and so Akaashi closes the book abruptly.

“You really are here,” Bokuto rumbles, voice low and gritty. “I wasn’t sure if what happened earlier was a dream or not.”

For weeks now, Akaashi has harboured all sorts of things he wants to say to Bokuto. Wrapped in bouts of happiness, longing and a bit of pain, these words have stored themselves in the depths of his head. Countless things, pointless things, meaningful things. Details nobody but Bokuto would give any care to. Leading up to this point, Akaashi should have been able to say everything he wants; he has had plenty of time to think about it. Too bad he has become overwhelmed in a matter of seconds, leading to his instinctive defense mechanism coming out.

“What you did was completely reckless,” he comments, plain and simple.

It feels wrong for his first words to be antagonizing, and he only realizes this after the fact.

Bokuto sits up without a word from his makeshift bed on the ground, not breaking his gaze. An arm reaches around Akaashi's shoulder, shuffling him closer. He should not be surprised by the man’s strength, and yet he is, putting up no resistance to Bokuto’s head tucking into his neck.

“You’re right.”

“You should have at least brought another guard with you.”

Akaashi curses mentally. Again? He could at least say he is relieved to see him. Bokuto’s other arm snugs in on his middle, practically fitting their bodies together at the waist up.

“I should have,” Bokuto echoes.

Akaashi sighs, wraps his arms around Bokuto, and relaxes. “What happened?”

“A lot,” Bokuto confides. “I lost their trail.”

He exhales, a deep breath and buries himself deeper into Akaashi’s neck. “How am I supposed to face that boy’s family and tell them I failed?”

Akaashi mulls over the question. “You do not have to tell them you failed,” he finally says.

Bokuto pulls away. “Whaddya mean!?” He cries. “I couldn’t find the others. Lost them by nightfall the first day in a forest, but their trail continued! I thought hey, no sweat, they’re still leaving me clues! I could find a way to track them. Then all of a sudden, there was nothing. No footprints, no notches in trees, nothing.”

Akaashi watches him. “What I mean, is you can tell them you have temporarily lost their trail, but you have not given up."

The knight peeps up at him, curiosity in his features.

"Instead of telling them you have failed, you can assure them as soon as you return to the castle you will request a formal search party to locate these men and try them for their crimes,” he explains. "With proper planning and resources, you will surely be able to do so."

Bokuto blinks down at his hands and again, up at Akaashi. “You think I can do that?” He asks, sincerely unsure.

He could laugh, but strangely, Akaashi almost tears up. How he has missed this man. “You said yourself, King Hinata cares for his people. I am sure upon hearing of this tragedy, he would allow you to conduct a proper manhunt.”

A beat of silence stretches between them, as Bokuto studies Akaashi intently.

“I’ve missed your brilliant mind,” Bokuto admits, hugging Akaashi and scooping him into his lap. “And a bunch of other things too. Like your calm voice, and your pretty eyes.”

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi protests, like he has said something unfair.

“And these hands,” Bokuto pauses, reaching for them and kissing his knuckles. “Oh, Keiji, I’ve missed them so-”

He cannot listen to this for a second longer, lest his heart explode from his ribcage. He leans forward to kiss Bokuto, who releases a sound but does not actually seem to mind the abrupt action.

To his utmost horror, the door clicks behind them. “I heard Bokuto's voice, is he- _oh!_ ”

The door slams shut. Akaashi has already pulled away and is staring at the closed frame, absolute dread written over his features.

“ _I’m sorry_!” Sugawara’s voice muffles. “ _I’ll come back later, and knock!_ ”

Akaashi buries his head in his hands, while Bokuto chuckles, trying to coax his embarrassment with kind words.

* * *

Bokuto insists he will visit the family on his own the next day, and tells Akaashi he will meet him at Baachan’s house for tea. Akaashi invites the others to join him too, and Baachan is delighted for the extra guests, eagerly shuffling them all inside. Sugawara does in fact, express his excitement for her plants and the two hit it off quite easily.

Baachan recognizes Daichi and Iwaizumi, apparently having seen them aiding in repairs in the town over the past couple days. She also refers to them as ‘the men everyone wonders who would win in an arm wrestle’.

“That would be me, Baachan,” Iwaizumi states, his arms crossed over his chest.

“I can’t believe how proud he is. All of the things you’ve done and arm wrestling is what you value most?” Sugawara laughs.

“You’ll have to prove it to the townsfolk, I don’t know if they’ll believe me,” she toys, steeping the tea.

“Careful, Baachan,” Daichi chimes in. “Iwaizumi takes his arm-wrestling tournaments very seriously.”

“All the better!” She hoots. “It can be an exciting event for all.”

A knock comes to the door, followed by a loud call of, “Baachan!”

Everyone can tell who it is. Baachan turns to the door, still occupied with preparing the tea. She locks gazes with Akaashi. “Answer for me, plum?” She asks, a hint of a coy smile on her face.

She knows. Akaashi is not sure how, but she definitely does. He nods, missing the tickled expression on Sugawara’s face.

“Plum?” He whispers to Daichi. “That’s so cute, what the hell?”

“Akaashi!” Bokuto greets chipperly upon seeing him. He appears much less distressed than he imagined. It is not a bad thing, rather Akaashi admires his ability to pick himself up.

He steps aside so Bokuto can enter. Asking how the talk went is tempting, but not a topic for a group conversation like this. Instead, he closes the door softly behind the knight. “You made good time. Tea is being served.”

“Bo-Bo, come say a proper hello!” Baachan calls to him, placing a tray of tea cups on her cluttered table and turning to him, her hands of his hips.

“Yes, Baachan!” Bokuto answer swiftly, striding across the room to hug her. She pats his back and kisses his cheek. Akaashi is thankful she is not the same with him, noticing how Bokuto smiles down at her and asks about her book.

It is a very small moment, and there is nothing particularly outstanding about it. Despite this, a small smile comes to Akaashi’s lips.

* * *

Half the platoon remains in the town for another week. Bokuto leads the rest on the road east towards the castle, and Akaashi’s group joins them to head for the fort. They make sure to give Baachan a proper goodbye, and Bokuto promises he will visit her soon. She smiles when he tacks on that he will bring Akaashi along as well.

The first night of travelling, they camp out near the road. The evening is humid, the next morning more so. By midday, Akaashi is wishing he could be resting in the shade of trees, or a cold bath. Anything to alleviate this terminal itch.

The second morning, the heat is rooted deep into his head, leaving him drowsy, dazed and confused. He angles his head in the direction of the door being knocked on, watching Bokuto peek inside.

“Akaashi?” He asks, voice hushed.

“Good morning, Koutarou,” he murmurs, trying to work the heaviness out of his lids. The roots of his hair are damp with sweat, and his shirt sticks partially to his back. It is as though the bath last night did nothing to cool his body. This is terrible.

“You feeling okay? The sun has almost risen already,” Bokuto explains, shuffling inside the room.

He closes his eyes. “Humid days tire me, I become sluggish.”

Bokuto hums out a sound. “I think I get it! Sitting in bed like this won’t wake you up though,” he muses. “I got it!”

Akaashi truly processes about half the words, blinking open surprised lids when Bokuto calls his name repeatedly. The knight kneels next to him, staring as if he is waiting for an answer.

“Pardon?” He asks, yawning.

Bokuto chuckles, grabbing Akaashi’s boots and bringing them to him. “Don’t worry about it, put your boots on and let's go!”

Akaashi stays disoriented, shuffling out of the inn ahead of Bokuto, unaware of the knight grabbing his bow and quiver as they slip outside.

***

He stares at the bow passively, standing in the nearby forest across from Bokuto.

“You want to practice?” He infers.

Bokuto nods vigorously. “I want you to show me how you do those insane, precise shots!”

Akaashi withholds a yawn. “I am not sure I can show you, exactly. It is a skill which comes from discipline, training and experience.”

A slight downturn of Bokuto’s eyebrows does not go unnoticed at his words.

Akaashi inhales quietly through his nose, stepping forward and instructing Bokuto on how to hold the bow properly.

***

“I finally hit one!” Bokuto cries, his voice booming.

Akaashi glances over from his cross-legged position on the ground, mentally tallying the number of arrows Bokuto has lost thus far. “Good work,” he praises.

“You didn’t watch!” Bokuto cries out, pointing at the arrow sticking out from a tree, about thirty feet away. “Pass me another arrow, I’ll do it again!”

Reluctantly, Akaashi hands one over. The knight, draws and aims, a taut look of concentration on his face.

“Tuck your elbows,” Akaashi reminds.

Bokuto obliges. “Y’know, when you were calling my name outside the town and running at me, I figured I was dreaming,” he whispers, closing an eye.

Akaashi’s sluggish head becomes slightly attentive. “Is that so?” He asks.

Bokuto hums a buzz of agreement. “You were this beacon of hope out of so much sadness and suffering I’d been going through. It was so surprising you were really there and it’s why I figured it couldn’t be real.”

He releases the arrow. It whizzes by the tree and Bokuto squawks in displeasure. “One more!” He calls out, holding an open palm towards Akaashi, who wordlessly hands him an arrow.

The arrow is lined up, drawn and aimed. Akaashi’s heart says, _you are my beacon of hope._ His mind overrules the impulsive confession, capturing it and preventing its escape. He wants to chastise himself, for not being able to voice it aloud.

“But you don’t have to worry about me, Keiji,” Bokuto murmurs, resharpening his focus. “It’s why you came to find me, right? ‘Cause you thought something bad happened.”

“Something bad _did_ happen,” Akaashi protests quietly.

“Hm, you’re right,” Bokuto muses without any kind of resistance. “But you can’t always be there to protect me from the bad things, you know?”

Stunned, Akaashi can merely blink as the arrow flies by the tree.

“Urg!” Bokuto snarls at the tree. “One more!” He insists.

 _You just said that…_ Akaashi thinks, wondering if he will have any arrows left over by the end of this. In spite of the thought, he passes Bokuto another.

“I know you do not need my protection, but I-”

Akaashi halts himself, the suppressive instinct kicking in later than the first time. _I what? I am helplessly drawn to you? I am powerless to the fear consuming me as time passed and I heard no word of your return, or safety? I could not bear going without finding my way to you, relying on you as if you are my Northern Star, guiding me through the long nights of uncertainty? I cannot begin to understand why it is I react this way, but I do know it is true. What I feel for you entices me as much as it scares me._

Lined, drawn and aimed. “I’m not upset about it. If anything, it’s super reassuring. You travelled all across the land for me, and thinking about it makes me want to kiss you senseless,” Bokuto explains. “Plus, if it were me in your shoes, I would’ve done the same.”

Akaashi’s face warms, and he folds his arms behind his back. He did not quite travel _all_ across the land and yet…

“What I’m saying is, I’ll find a way to get word to you that I’m okay before you have a chance to worry and come chase after me again, okay?” Bokuto offers, his voice low so as to keep his focus steady. “I’m sorry I made you scared.”

He does not know what to say, really. Akaashi manages a nod, but Bokuto probably does not notice, considering his efforts are turned towards the tree.

The arrow flies. Akaashi’s attention does not leave Bokuto and he hears the clunk of the arrow head piercing into the wood.

“Yes!” Bokuto yells, pumping an arm in the air. “There, didja see that one, Keiji!?” He asks, smiling at him brilliantly in the wake of the patches of morning sun filtering around him.

“I did,” he lies, stepping closer to Bokuto. Guided in, like the Northern Star he is.

Bokuto catches onto him, be it in his words or his approach and turns towards Akaashi fully. This does not deter him though, reaching a hand out.

He is both scared and tempted by this magnetic pull. His hand lays upon the side of Bokuto’s face and immediately, the knight leans into the touch. Bokuto understand what he is trying to convey, and Akaashi hears his bow dropping to the ground lightly, then hands settle on his hips and the two meet each other halfway.

Kissing Bokuto gives relief akin to coming up for a breath of air out of water. It both clears his mind and fogs it at once, leaving him pursuing the response blindly. Fervor diffuses into his body, through each breath and every kiss. Akaashi presses himself close to Bokuto, hearing a small rumble from the knight. The hands around his hips tighten. In the following kiss, Bokuto’s lips part and a jolt of pleasure whips the back of Akaashi’s neck, nearly startling him.

Bokuto, strong as ever, lifts Akaashi in a swift movement and he grabs a hold of the knight’s shoulders to support himself. His back presses to something, most presumably the trunk of a tree. Bokuto’s hands grip his thighs and guide them to fit snug around his hips.

He breaks their kiss, releasing a breathy sound as Bokuto’s lips touch his neck. He grips Bokuto tighter, thinking he is about to lose himself.

“I am not sure this is the best place to-” he inhales a sharp breath, unable to finish the sentence rationally.

Bokuto’s tongue traces up the side of his neck, to be replaced with lips pressing lightly to his jaw. He pulls away to stare at Akaashi, the side of his mouth turned up.

“The best place to what?” The knight asks, sly overtones heavy in his voice.

Akaashi opens his mouth, but he flushes and contains the instinctive thoughts, looking up to the tree tops instead. Chuckling ensues, and Akaashi thinks his face grows warmer. A kiss is placed to the angle of his jaw, then Bokuto loosens his grip, easing Akaashi’s feet to the ground.

If someone had told Akaashi he would find himself in this situation, he would regard them with a passive expression and politely inform them he would never behave so inappropriately. Now, as he is entangled with Bokuto in the middle of a forest and flustered beyond belief, he is seriously speculating on whether such morals were deep rooted to begin with. Is it the heat, causing him to act so recklessly? Or is it simply because Bokuto brings out a foreign side of him?

There is so much Akaashi thinks he should say and yet, words fail him again. He settles for catching Bokuto’s arm and kissing him earnestly to prevent him from pulling away completely. Not a second later, Bokuto’s strong hands cup his face. Another rush hits his head and Akaashi falls into it.

Bokuto separates himself, maybe an inch or two, his half-lidded eyes dusky. “I seriously…” he pauses to kiss Akaashi’s mouth. “Can’t get enough of you…” Another one. “Wanna lay you out in the sun…” Akaashi is going to faint, any second now. “And kiss you everywhere.”

All of the blood in his body is rushing to his skin, every part of his body burning up. Is Bokuto aware of his aimless, embarrassing words? Maybe he speaks them knowing Akaashi will react like this. It would be a cruel way to taunt him for such a reaction.

“But we don’t really have the time for that,” Bokuto continues, sinking to his knees in front of Akaashi. He turns his chin up to hold eye contact, zero reluctance. “So, I’ll make due.”

Akaashi’s knees are wobbly, and the support of the tree trunk behind his back is greatly appreciated. Bokuto's words affect him similar to physical touch, without actually having to do so. It is an unfamiliar, thrilling sensation to experience. He thinks he nods his head, becoming fuzzier more now than ever. The humidity seems like a minor inconvenience compared to the way Bokuto has him bothered.

Bokuto’s hands are warm and gentle. Shuffling his pants down to expose him, the first thing Bokuto does is press his tongue flat to the underside of his shaft, moving upward.

“ _Oh..._ ” Akaashi whimpers.

He cannot keep Bokuto’s gaze, already wound up so tight he might snap at any given moment. Bokuto’s tongue reaches the tip and runs along the slit of his head. Akaashi’s eyes close and practically roll back into his head as the wetness continues to envelop him, further and further. Bokuto eases away, only the head of his erection left in his mouth.

His tongue moves in languid movements, forcing Akaashi to climb a steady, sensual path towards release. Each step forward adds another layer of constriction around him, peeling back his restraints with each passing second. He is not aware of his panting, or shaky moans growing louder.

Bokuto brings his head forward, filling his mouth until there is nothing left to give other than the restraint of the back of his throat. It is so tight, giving Akaashi a final surge of pleasure in warning and he knows he is all but done.

“Kou-Koutarou,” Akaashi tries, swallowing a dry lump.

Pushing himself too far, Bokuto’s throat involuntarily constricts around him. Akaashi’s toes go numb, as do the tips of his fingers. He receives an answer in the form of a hum, which merely supplements the dizziness in his head. His hands rest on top of Bokuto’s head, in his wildly spiked hair.

A hand wraps around his erection, in the space Bokuto is not able to occupy with his mouth. Together, he works out a way to combine his separate movements into a fluid rhythm; Bokuto’s mouth has slicked him up entirely, making the pressure from his hand glide easily.

Akaashi’s legs are stiff, clenched and immobile in his half-standing half-leaning position. He stills, all at once, and coos out a broken moan, trying not to double over. The pressure within releases, a sudden oncoming rush of unstable euphoria. Bokuto’s throat pulses, swallowing around him and the realization dawns a second wave of pleasure over Akaashi. Bokuto keeps a hand on his trembling hips, strong and steadying.

Air rushes into his heavy lungs. His wrecked heart is beating fast and hard, popping off like a constant drum. He peers through closed lashes at Bokuto, who eases himself off and readjusts Akaashi's pants in place. The knight stands, placing a kiss to the crown of Akaashi’s head and pressing his face to the spot.

“Let’s head back to the inn,” Bokuto suggests.

Akaashi rests a hand on Bokuto’s waist. “But you…” He pauses.

"Me?" Bokuto asks.

He is reluctant to speak. “You did not get anything out of that,” Akaashi murmurs.

The vibrations of Bokuto’s chuckle tingle the top of his head. “Oh believe me, I sure did,” he insists, pulling away to begin retrieving the arrows.

Akaashi takes an extra couple moments to cool his head, leaning against the tree for support.

* * *

After returning to the castle and reporting to the King, Bokuto is sent on another mission to capture the two criminals. Being away from him is like being homesick; a feeling in which Akaashi never understood for most of his life until he started taking up residency at the fort. The emptiness of your safety can creep up on you, or snag you instantly. For Akaashi, it is a slow burn, waiting as days turn into weeks and into a month.

It is difficult to be patient. To manage his yearning for Bokuto, and his keep a level head. He figured he would not miss Bokuto as much the second time around, because he knows what to expect in his absence. It is funny though, in a way that is far from humorous, how wrong he is. The longing returns full force as it did previously.

But the day Bokuto returns, atop of his horse and grinning with all of the world’s wonder in his smile, makes the emptiness unquestionably worth it.

He professes his love to Bokuto the very same day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> have you ever noticed...Akaashi talks and thinks a bit differently than everyone else? it's not just in his polite manners either... but in his grammar


	22. (Ep) Wherever We Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had this epilogue 90% complete, then scrapped the idea. It’s fucked up, I know. I just couldn’t find much to enjoy in the original and writing it felt like such a chore compared to the others. I think asanoya epilogue 2.0 is much better anyway, and I whipped it up pretty quick! I promise the next one will not take nearly a whole month 😘
> 
> I also wanna give another shoutout to all the love shown for the fic. You guys are awesome, thank you so much!

It all started when Nishinoya took a trip south.

Asahi didn’t think too much on it initially. Nishinoya would normally send Tanaka and a crew out to gather the ore he required, so it was a tad strange for him to be making the journey as well. The swordsmith explained he was in search of a rare material for a side project and volunteered to join in on the hunt. Figuring it was for some kind of weapon, Asahi thought little of reason for the trip and more so mildly panicked to Nishinoya about the safety of mines. He started asking questions to try and get a sort of reassurance, but all it did was enforce a new fear and make him worry for Nishinoya’s well-being.

The morning Nishinoya left, he decided to pay Asahi a visit prior to setting out. Asahi was frightened to blink open heavy lids at a bright-eyed Nishinoya, straddling his body and grinning sly. He leaned forward to place a kiss under his ear and almost reactively, Asahi's hand touched his hip while Nishinoya whispered out a good morning. It must have been before dawn, because little light filtered in the window.

There were perks to serving under the King directly; One of them being that Asahi was granted a private room in the barracks, not having to share a common space like most of the others. He was grateful for it in that moment considering the circumstances, but he also had to wonder how Nishinoya managed to pick the lock on his door.

Half-asleep, Asahi closed his eyes and hummed out a response as Nishinoya stippled soft kisses from his neck to jaw. He heard him murmur about giving Asahi something before he left, and the knight cracked an eye open in curiosity. Nishinoya shuffled himself down his body, pulling the blanket with him.

"Yuu..." Asahi murmured knowingly, not quite a protest but somewhat unconvinced.

He gave Asahi the look; his classic devil smile, eyes sparkling wicked and that's really all it took to ease the trousers off. Nishinoya lowered his head between Asahi's thighs, pleasing him in ways that left him moaning quietly in the early hours of daybreak. He took it one step further, fingering Asahi until he arched up and came hard, only capable of moaning Nishinoya's name in broken cries. He trembled through his orgasm, mind fuzzy for minutes after he eased Nishinoya upward and settled his hips over his face. Morning doves begun to cry in the distance the same time Nishinoya's thighs clamped around his head and he shuddered out his own release.

After Nishinoya dressed quickly and slipped out, Asahi continued to lay on his back, staring at the ceiling and slowly coming down from the rush of pleasure. Nishinoya sure did know how to leave a lasting impression.

* * *

The trip to the southern mines took almost three weeks total, and Asahi was delighted at the news of Nishinoya’s return upon a servant informing Hinata. He missed the man’s energetic presence, and grew eagerly impatient to visit him as the day of meetings went on.

He was able to slip away to the smith’s buildings after sunset, while Hinata sparred with Kageyama in the training yard. They had a sort of non-verbal agreement that when the two were left alone for training, Kageyama became responsible for the King’s safety. Despite his outwardly cold appearance and harsh insults (which Asahi is learning are more of a reflexive behaviour than true insults), he seemed to enjoy the late-night training sessions.

He stopped by the kitchens beforehand, grabbing a pasty to bring to Nishinoya. The door to the smith shop was unlocked, but it was Tanaka standing in the front room who looked over his shoulder, unpacking tools. A quick greeting was exchanged, and Tanaka explained Nishinoya was already asleep in his bedroom, exhausted from their travels. Asahi felt sympathy for him, and asked him to pass along his hello, plus the pastry. Judging by the way Tanaka leered at the dessert, Asahi thought it would be lucky if Nishinoya actually saw the treat in the morning.

As he turned to leave, Tanaka pulled a small, wooden box from the pack. Something inside rattled, and Tanaka walked towards Nishinoya’s work room with it.

“What’s that?” Asahi asked, curious.

“The crown jewel, of course!” Tanaka called out, much too loud to be considerate of Nishinoya sleeping not far away. “Took a lotta time preppin’ this bastard, I’ll tell you,” Tanaka grumbles, already halfway in the room and bidding Asahi a loud goodbye. Asahi cringes, hoping Nishinoya sleeps heavy.

Crown jewel? He guessed it to be the rare material Nishinoya mentioned. He still didn’t fully understand what sort of weapon was being made, but everything went well clearly and everyone came home in one piece. Asahi was happy with such a result, and retreated to the barracks for the night.

* * *

_“Sorry to bother you like this.”_

_“It’s nothin’. I need to grab a bite to eat anyway. Come on, we’ll walk to the dining hall.”_

_“Sure.”_

_“I wasn’t expecting to see you. You been takin’ care of yourself?”_

_“Course! I bet you’re doing the same?”_

_“Ah, things are finally back to normal and that’s all I can ask for.”_

_“I hear you there. I’ve had enough excitement to hold me over for a while.”_

* * *

Following breakfast the next morning, Asahi decided he would try to get around to the shops around midday to get a proper hello in to Nishinoya. It was hard to remain patient knowing he was back home after being away for weeks and Asahi wasn't able to simply walk out of the boring meetings to go kiss him and ask about the trip.

Midday came, and Hinata barely paid him any mind as he excused himself, devoted to eating near his weight in breads, meat and cheeses. Asahi made his way back to the shop, discovering the front to be empty upon arrival. There were no sounds of iron clanging behind the closed work door either and Nishinoya’s bedroom was empty. After knocking on the work room and receiving no kind of acknowledgement from Nishinoya. Asahi poked his head inside, unsure if he was deep in concentration.

Nope. It was empty too. _Damn!_ He must have just missed Nishinoya on his was to getting a meal. Asahi sighed, stepping into the room and observing the various tools laid out on the iron work tables absentmindedly. On the ground in front of one of the tables, a metal bucket sat. Asahi glanced over it curiously, raising an eyebrow at the contents within.

It was filled almost halfway with small, steel rings. Ranging in different sizes and thickness, the steel bits stacked countlessly over one another. A few of them were also linked to each other, creating small chains.

“Strange,” Asahi murmured to himself. He wasn’t sure how such small pieces would be used in any sense, other than a sort of chainmail armour. He shrugs, exiting the shop and finding Nishinoya in the dining hall. They share a hearty lunch together and while a short date together, Asahi is grateful for Nishinoya’s presence, his words and his smile. They make plans to meet up later in the evening, during Hinata's training, and he goes about the rest of his day, letting his eagerness carry him through the rambling of the councillors.

* * *

_“Oh, something smells good. I bet Shirofuku cooked roasted duck!”_

_“A favourite of yours?”_

_“I could eat it for days. You’re gonna love it, and never be pleased by any other food the same way.”_

_A laugh. “Maybe I shouldn’t eat it then, to avoid a lifetime of emptiness.”_

_“You won’t be able to resist once it’s in front of you, I guarantee it. You around here for long?”_

_“Just a few days.”_

* * *

Weeks passed and life carried on as normal. The summer heat set in, and certain days were unbearable in his full suit of armour. Overall, the day-to-day activities weren’t strenuous, but Asahi couldn’t say he was ever thrilled about the meetings Hinata attended. For starters, a lot of the topics were rather pointless compared to greater issues from Asahi’s perspective. Adjusting rates of taxes was a terrible idea considering there were still many pockets of the city being restored. Another thing; the way those men talked to the King was unacceptable. A lot of them clearly saw him as nothing more than a naïve boy. Which he is, in a few ways, but Asahi also recognized the potential in Hinata's dedication and creative ideas. 

The councillors don’t particularly enjoy the fact that Hinata has been attending fighting tournaments either. They call his behaviour ‘barbaric’ and ‘unfit for someone of his position’. Truthfully, Asahi would like to tell the crabby old men in theirs robes to shut up and mind their mouths. It’s not like Hinata is out every evening, getting drunk with a bunch of the fighters. He’s only gone to two in them in the span of a few months, and the King deserves a break here and there.

The councillors nor their opinions don’t seem to deter Hinata though, and he invites Asahi and Nishinoya to attend one of the tournaments. Asahi can’t say he’s thrilled about it, but Nishinoya absolutely lights up upon hearing the invitation, saying he can't remember the last time he went to one. Asahi wasn’t surprised to hear he used to frequent the pits a lot in his teens. It’s not that he minds the fighting itself, it’s the people in the crowds who tend to freak him out.

The night of, Asahi stops by the shop to get Nishinoya before escorting Hinata to his carriage. Tanaka is in the work room, piling steel ingots into a chest and barks out a hello to Asahi, who pokes his head in the work room.

“Is Nishinoya in his room?” Asahi asks.

“Huh? No, he stopped by the baths a while ago. Should be back any minute now, come on in!” Tanaka explains, facing away.

Asahi nods, stepping into the room. It’s always in a state of clutter; the various tools, pieces of steel and unfinished weapons all scattered about. He walks up to one of the work tables, picking up a sword and examining it.

“I hear you guys are swinging by a tournament tonight. Sounds like a good evening in the works!” Tanaka chirps.

Asahi releases a breath of amusement, setting the sword on the table. “I’m sure the King and Nishinoya will enjoy themselves.”

“You ought too as well!” Tanaka jests. “Lots of alcohol flowing around in places like those. Have a couple ales and you’ll be cheering along with the rest of the crowd in no time!”

Asahi has a reply on his tongue, but he spots a familiar, small box sitting on the table next to him. It stuns him a moment, before he agrees quietly.

The…crown jewel Tanaka had called it? He wonders if it’s still in there.

“I’ve seen a good few fights here and there. When Noya and I were younger, we used to-”

Tanaka is still speaking with his back to him, unloading the steel. It couldn’t hurt to just have a peek, right? If it was something rare, it might be a pretty stone. Maybe it’s for a decorative weapon?

Asahi reaches for it, propping the wooden top open.

He nearly drops the box as soon as he peers inside, instead snapping the lid on tight and setting it down a tad too harsh on the work table. At which point, Tanaka glances over his shoulder and catches him staring at the box.

“Oh, so you found it, huh? Crazy, right?” Tanaka insists.

Is this- _no_. Asahi doesn’t want to finish the thought. But, could he- _stop_. His mind is doing its talented way of kick-starting him into panic mode, all in a matter of seconds.

He’s not sure how he finds his voice, but it comes out forced. “Uh, yea. It is.”

“Took Noya forever to make,” Tanaka crosses his arms over his chest. “And it’s supposed to be a secret, so keep it to yourself, ya hear?”

A secret. Nishinoya didn’t want him to know about this? That detail doesn’t relieve him at all.

“Of course.”

* * *

_“So, outside of weapons, do you craft other things?”_

_“Other things?”_

_“Yea, like furniture, or utensils?”_

_“_ Utensils? _”_

_“Okay!” A breath. “Not exactly, but you get what I’m saying, right?”_

_“Not really.”_

_“Can you make things other than weapons?”_

* * *

By the end of the night, Nishinoya would classify the whole evening as strange. It had its ups, its downs, and a whole lot of…weirdness. Ranging from Kageyama unexpectedly entering of the tournament, to Hinata's impromptu fleeing scene, it was definitely a night packed full of action. To top it off, the entire carriage ride to the castle was freaky quiet. Hinata sat still as stone and didn’t speak a word, and Kageyama looked in the complete opposite direction at the wall of the interior. You couldn’t chalk that kind of silence up to exhaustion either. It was plain hostility and Nishinoya could tell despite the strong buzz he was nursing.

They said their goodbyes in front of the castle and Nishinoya raised an eyebrow at the way Hinata dragged Kageyama up the steps. Asahi and himself started on the path rounding behind the castle towards the shop.

“So,” Nishinoya says, the first to speak. “That was weird, right?”

“Huh? What part?” Asahi asks, a little caught off guard.

He supposes it’s a fair question. “The carriage ride. Those two were definitely in a fight.”

“Oh, were they?” Asahi asks. “I guess I didn't notice.”

“That drunk, huh? Can’t even pay attention to your surroundings?” Nishinoya teases.

Asahi laughs, weak. “I guess so.”

Stopping in front of his shop, he turns to Asahi. “Everything okay?” He asks.

The question renews a sort of nervousness in his voice. “Of course!” He bursts out. Nishinoya raises a brow, and Asahi sighs, rubbing the back of his head. “Tired, I guess.”

He nods, slowly. “Sure. Well, I’d ask you to come in, but you probably want to hit the sack then.”

“Sorry,” Asahi says, sincerely. “I appreciate the offer.”

Nishinoya waves him off. “It’s nothing. Go on, get some rest.”

“Thanks, Yuu,” Asahi says, settling a hand on his side and pressing a chaste kiss on his mouth.

Nishinoya hums, pulling him down for an extra kiss. One just wasn’t enough, you see.

* * *

_“Sure. I guess it really depends on what you want.”_

_“Well, it’s definitely out of the realm of weapons.”_

_“Uh huh.”_

_“Really far, actually. Maybe I was dumb for coming to ask you.”_

_“Aw hell, you haven’t even asked me yet. Get on with- ah!”_

_They spotted the servings of roasted duck, waiting to be plated._

* * *

Tanaka grins over Nishinoya’s shoulder, waving an arm. “Over here, Asahi!” He calls.

He wasn’t sure Asahi would really show up. The knight definitely isn't thrilled at the setting of choice for sharing drinks, approaching their table in a quick, stiff pace. It is easy to tell by the hunch in his shoulders, Asahi is nervous and trying to hide it among the crowd of unusually hostile looking patrons.

Normally, Nishinoya would have called him out for acting like a frightened child, but before he can part his lips to mildly harass his lover, he catches something. Well, more like, multiple somethings, coming from different sections of the tavern. Pairs of eyes, trained onto Asahi and narrowed; as if they harbour a particular dislike at the sight of him. Huh. Weird.

Do they recognize him? Asahi doesn’t exactly leave Hinata’s side much and he's not wearing his armour, but maybe these guys are sharp and remember him by the King’s side once or twice at a tournament. But, would they really want to go seeking a fight with the King’s personal guard? Asahi’s size alone should be enough to deter any of the hostile onlookers.

“Good to see ya!” Tanaka greets him, clapping the knight on the shoulder. Asahi smiles thinly, sitting next to Nishinoya and saying his hellos. He glances down at the mug Tanaka pushes in front of him.

“You gotta catch up, you’re already a drink behind,” he encourages, wearing a sly grin.

“I’ll try my best,” Asahi murmurs, chuckling and taking a sip.

Under the table, Nishinoya bumps Asahi’s leg with his own. The knight startles ever so slightly, and Nishinoya grins as he sips from his own cup. "Loosen up," he murmurs.

Asahi nods, taking a bigger drink.

Nishinoya has noticed a new behaviour in Asahi as of late. He’s unsure if it’s a general nervousness like normal, or feelings of anxiety directed solely towards him. Asahi is an antsy guy, but there have been small interactions between them leaving Nishinoya wondering- like the night of the tournament, or a few days ago when he saw Asahi and the King in passing. The two were getting into a carriage, and Asahi didn't make eye contact with Nishinoya at all in their rushed conversation. 

_Why is he acting so jumpy around me? Did I do something to upset him?_ Nishinoya doesn’t like having to play guessing games, but he’s still at a point where he isn’t sure if he’s reading too much into the situation.

He sure hopes it's got nothing to do with him, but a small part of him suggests otherwise. Maybe after a few drinks, Asahi will loosen up and they can have a good night. Or he’ll blurt out whatever has been bugging him and they can get over it.

Somewhere between drinks four and five, a fight breaks out in the tavern in a matter of seconds. Immediately, half the people inside are on their feet and shouting in enthusiasm at the scene, where it appears one drunk guy spilled another drunk guy’s beer. So, basically an invitation for a punch or two to be thrown.

Asahi brings a hand to his mouth, horrifically observing the scene over his shoulder. “Is it safe to be around this?” He asks.

Tanaka barks out a laugh. “Are you kidding? It’s not a good night if there aren’t a few good fights.”

“A _few?”_ Asahi repeats, whipping his head back.

Nishinoya smirks at his cup. “What’sa matter, scared?” He teases, bumping Asahi’s shoulder. “You could give any of these guys a run for their gold,” he assures, leering out at the crowd.

“I-I don’t know about that,” the knight protests.

The fight quells quick, and Tanaka tuts in the general direction of the scene. “A few weak jabs and it’s done. Just wait Asahi, we’ll spot another one soon. Better yet, we'll be involved in it.”

“I’d really be fine without that,” the knight assures.

“Now don’t get so hasty Asahi,” Nishinoya drawls, the side of his mouth curling up in amusement. “Ryuu, look who walked in.”

Tanaka’s eyes dart to the spot and anger seethes into them. “The bastard. He’s got balls showing his face around here.”

“What happened between them?” Asahi whispers to Nishinoya.

“He's been running into this guy for years, and they always end up fighting. Destined rivals. I can’t remember what the original feud was about, but probably had something to do with drinking, gambling or a woman. Maybe all three.”

“That’s all, huh?” the knight murmurs. The two of them watch Tanaka, who is staring over their shoulders. The man resembling Tanaka in ways he would be offended to hear walks by their table, not so subtly glaring as he passes by. A few other men trail behind him, sneering in their direction.

Nishinoya goes for another gulp, only to find his cup empty. He narrows his gaze, almost offended at the lack of ale.

“I’ll grab another round,” Asahi offers with a small chuckle, having noticed his stare-off.

“I like this guy, boss!” Tanaka chirps, banging a fist onto the table as Asahi walks to the bar.

Nishinoya grins haughty at Asahi’s retreating from. It isn’t often the man is free of his armour, so he allows himself a second or two to ogle. “Yea, he’s alright.”

His daydream is cut short, by the sound of Tanaka’s raised his voice. “Somethin’ you want to say, punk!?” He calls across the room. Oh boy. This could get ugly real quick.

"I'm thinkin’ you look awful scrawny since the last time I kicked your ass!” The man returns, earning a few laughs in the tavern.

Tanaka without fail, falls for the bait and stands up from his seat. “Oh yea, well this scrawny ass managed to knock you out cold the time before that!”

He definitely could have chosen a better retort, Nishinoya decides. As a loyal friend, he has to back him up though, so Nishinoya starts cracking his knuckles. A yell near the bar and draws his attention, craning his head over his shoulder to get a glimpse of the other commotion.

“Aw fuck,” Nishinoya mumbles, jumping up from his seat. “Ryuu, no redemption right now, we got a bigger problem!” He calls out, pointing towards the scene across the room.

Some drunk dolt has Asahi on the ground, straddling him and throwing punches.

“Alright, this is what I’ve been waiting for!” Tanaka hollers, already working his shirt off and charging behind Nishinoya.

* * *

_“Jewellery, huh? I haven’t made anything specific, but I’ve crafted decorative swords using gemstones, silver and gold, so I know how to work with the material.”_

_“I’m not looking for anything crazy; a simple gold band, maybe a gemstone in it if possible.”_

_“A ring? You plannin’ to get married?”_

_“Something of the sort. It’s more of a symbolic gift.”_

_A hum. “Yea, I think I get it. When do you need it by?”_

_“There’s no strict deadline. I’m not in any hurry.”_

_“Well good. It’ll take weeks alone to get the material. You know it ain’t gonna be cheap either, right?”_

_“I’ll find a way to cover it,” he laughs._

* * *

Nishinoya spots Asahi outside, crouched against the outside of the building. He walks to him, getting a cautious glance that settles once Asahi recognizes him.

He frowns at the cup Nishinoya offers forward. “I’m not sure I want to drink anymore,” he declines politely.

Nishinoya shoves it into his hands anyway. “It’s water.”

He takes an experimental sip, finding it to be true. “Oh, thanks,” the knight amends lowly.

Nishinoya joins him on the ground, seating himself next to Asahi.

“Doing okay?” Nishinoya asks.

Asahi observes Nishinoya’s bloodied knuckles, probably wondering the same. Nishinoya is unbothered, the pain a dull annoyance. Long used to such encounters, him and Tanaka fight like hounds when provoked. Like his friend said; it’s not an exciting night without a few. That one was good too, considering a whole group of people joined in. Tanaka even got his redemption.

“I have a small bump on my head. It’s nothing serious,” Asahi assures.

Nishinoya taps a spot on his forehead, next to a small cut to point out the unnoticed injury. Asahi presses his fingers to the spot, wincing.

“What caused all the commotion?” Nishinoya asks.

“I’m not entirely sure,” Asahi starts. “I think I may have looked at the guy the wrong way?” He guesses. “He mentioned something about my expression before shoving me.”

Nishinoya doesn’t respond right away. “Were you looking at him funny?” He asks. It seems stupid, but in a room full of drunk men, one wrong glance is a fine way to earn heat.

“No, of course not! I was trying to focus on not fainting the entire time, not getting on anyone’s nerves!” Asahi assures him.

He does have an awful serious nervous face. _That’s why those guys were leering at him on his way in._ The longer he weighs it out in his mind, the more he grows amused. “Asahi, how come you didn’t fight back? I mean, you could have at least thrown him off you!”

Asahi sighs. “He was drunk. So drunk half his punches missed. It wouldn’t be a fair fight.”

Nishinoya’s eyebrows draw down in disbelief. “If he’s dumb enough to pick a fight with the wrong guy, that’s on him. You shoulda taught him a lesson!”

“People do stupid things when they’re drunk,” Asahi shrugs, turning his head away.

He’s acting weird again. His left foot is tapping gently, as he’s continuing to keep his gaze averted from Nishinoya.

“You okay, Asahi?” He asks.

The knight doesn’t respond at first, but he does eventually turn to him, which is progress. Asahi opens his mouth and hesitates. Doubt enters Nishinoya’s mind, wondering what’s got him acting so strange still.

“Yuu, I can’t get married!” He blurts out.

* * *

_“This is exciting. Now I get why you’re so nervous.”_

_“Come on, give me a break here.”_

_“I know, I know. Does he have any idea?”_

_“None, as far as I know. I want to it to be a surprised.”_

_“Tanaka is the only other person who will know. My lips are sealed. Will there be a ceremony?”_

_“It would be nice. A small one would do us fine.”_

_“Well, congratulations.”_

_“Save that for later, after he accepts the ring.”_

_They both laugh._

* * *

Nishinoya blinks as the confusion settles in slowly. “Yea… uh, didn't you take an oath not to wed when you were sworn at Hinata's side?” He asks. Also, since when has marriage become an important topic to Asahi?

“Right! Plus, there’d be no way for it to be legally bound, and I’m not saying this means we shouldn’t ever consider combining assets at some point, though I don’t have a whole lot to my name-”

“Asahi, _what_ are you talking about?” Nishinoya cuts in, far from understanding what he is trying to get across.

“I…I found the ring,” Asahi admits lowly.

“You found the ring,” Nishinoya repeats, hoping the second time it’s said aloud it will help everything click for him. It doesn’t.

“It’s amazing, Yuu. The detailing, the pretty stone in it. I can’t imagine how many hours and all the effort you put into it. You were practicing making rings out of steel awhile back too, weren’t you? You’re always so dedicated to your craft, it’s admirable. I wouldn’t ever try to deny a future with you, but this… is fast, don’t you see? Do we need to be thinking about things like this right now?”

Realization claims its mark and Nishinoya is unable to hide the fiery grin on the corners of his mouth. Oh _boy_ Asahi. He stands up, offering his hands out to the knight.

“Let’s go. I’m getting tired.”

His voice isn’t disappointed, or angry, which seems to catch Asahi off guard. He accepts the offering and rises to his feet. It’s a quiet walk to the castle, filled with the sound of nothing but their footsteps. Nishinoya knows Asahi is waiting to burst at any moment and ask why he’s being so strange about this confrontation, but truthfully, he’s trying not to burst out laughing every time he thinks about it.

He lights an oil lamp inside the shop and goes to retrieve a small bucket of water. He cleans a small cut on Asahi’s face and his knuckles too, scrubbing at the dried blood on his hands hard enough for Asahi to wince. He wraps them in bandages, then goes into his bedroom to grab a small box. Similar to the one he put the ring in.

He holds the box out to Asahi, who stiffens at the sight. Nishinoya can’t contain the snicker.

“Go ahead and open it. No marriage proposals, I promise.”

Asahi pouts a little, taking the box and settling it in his lap. He removes the wooden lid slowly and his movements halt abruptly.

“Oh, it’s beautiful.”

“It’s for you,” Nishinoya says.

“What?”

“I was inspired, making the ring. I thought giving one to you might be a bit forward, and clearly,” Nishinoya pauses, smirking as Asahi removes the necklace from the box. “I was right about that.”

It’s built of small, silver chain links. A rectangular, silver pendant hangs from it with a detailed lion figurine roaring. Small, carved rubies are in place of its eyes.

“Still, it made me want to make you a gift as a token of my affection, get it? It’s symbolic,” he states, matter-of-factly.

Asahi lowers the necklace into the box, shaking his head. “Oh, Yuu,” he says exasperatedly, standing up and pulling him in for a kiss. “I’m such a fool, I’m so sorry.”

He strokes a hand along the side of Asahi's face. “Don’t worry about it," he dismisses. But seconds later, he decides it's not enough and opens his mouth again. "I hope you know, just because we’ve been together a short time, I’m in this for real. The future is something we figure out later on, but… I’m happy with you. Really happy.”

Nishinoya’s expression softens as tears begin welling in Asahi's eyes. “Hey, come on now,” he eases.

Asahi wraps a hand around Nishinoya’s, shaking his head. “You can gift me a ring anytime you want. I’d be more than grateful to receive it.”

“Take the necklace for now, I worked hard on it,” Nishinoya teases.

Asahi laughs, sniffling. “Of course. It’s wonderful, thank you.”

He kisses the knight. “You’re welcome. Now,” he drops his hand, motioning for Asahi to follow him. “You didn’t come home with me only to kiss, did you?”

Without fail, Asahi’s springs up like a startled animal, eyes widen and stuttering. “You’re the one who brought me back here!”

Nishinoya picks up the oil lamp, trailing towards his room. He hears Asahi's steps behind and smirks to himself. “There’s not a lot of privacy in the barracks.”

“That’s true…Plus, we haven’t spent a night together in awhile.”

***

“Yuu.”

He moans, the sound quiet over the clapping sound of skin meeting skin. It's good, _so good._ His thighs burn but he refuses to stop. Not when he's getting close like this, holding back shivers as Asahi slides in and out of him. The second time Asahi calls his name, Nishinoya slows his rhythm and peers at Asahi.

“Yea?”

Asahi’s hands sweep up his thighs, fingers grasping at the muscle tight.

“So…um… what was the ring for?”

Nishinoya stops outright, blinking in surprise.

_Of all times to ask…_

He holds in a sigh, sinking onto Asahi till his hips rest on top of his pelvis. “It was a commission,” Nishinoya replies, rocking his hips forward. Pleasure jolts up his spine, a sharp burst. Just a bit more...

One of Asahi’s hands move upwards and he smooths a thumb over the crevice between hip and thigh. “Someone paid you to make it?” He continues, hand massaging up to his hips.

“Exa- _ah_ -ctly,” Nishinoya says, closing his eyes and raising himself a little, only to grind back down hard. He hits the right angle, and presses a hand to Asahi’s broad chest to steady himself.

Asahi raises up, and Nishinoya braces himself around his shoulders as they shift into a sitting position. It's awkward for him to move in any kind of rhythm like this, but he pauses as lips press against the top of his shoulder. Next, Asahi kisses the side of Nishinoya's jaw.

“Okay, no more questions. Sorry, I didn’t mean to kill the mood.”

Nishinoya angles his head for a drawn-out kiss, hands cupping his face. “You're not going to ask who it is, at least?” He teases. All these questions and he's not even asking for the good stuff. “It’s someone you and I both know...”


	23. (Ep) Where the Bells Cry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops I accidently went overboard again. Am I sorry? Not really, cause this is one of my favourites I’ve written.
> 
> I’m calling this one the prequel epilogue. It's a bit heavy at some parts, so consider yourself warned!!!

A portion of Sugawara’s childhood and early teens were spent housed at a chapel in the west. Prior to that he’d been living in an orphanage, lacking consistent love and support. When he was first adopted by the Superior, it was a hard transition into the new environment full of new people. He was able to gain routine at the chapel though; his days mainly consisted of praying, working and learning teachings from the Superior. It gave him stability, and something to pursue in his life. It was also a much better place to live than the orphanage. The other followers were friendly and taught him how to practice medicine using herbs and other plants. Sugawara learned a lot of valuable information, courtesy of the garden he was responsible for tending to.

From his teachings, he was able to treat superficial wounds and illness on those who sought refuge in the chapel’s walls. Sugawara was always caring towards the people he tended to, finding joy in curing their ailments. Taking them in wounded and sick, then sending them away healed and healthy. It was simple, and it worked for him for a very long time.

Leading up to Sugawara’s thirteenth birthday, the Superior sat him down privately. He remembered feeling nervous, thinking he was going to be lectured for swiping an extra helping of food for the travellers who departed recently. The Superior was very strict, and Sugawara always tried to avoid those instances by behaving under his authority.

It turns out, the Superior wanted Sugawara to become a formal member of the chapel.

* * *

“I don’t know if it’s a good idea.”

“What’s wrong? Kageyama sounds interested.”

“That’s the concerning part.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Come on Daichi, those two obviously are attracted to each other.”

“And that’s…bad?” Daichi asks unsurely.

“For a multitude of reasons!” Sugawara cries, rubbing his temples. “He’s a King, Daichi! Kings are supposed to have wives, and babies! Does Kageyama seem capable of bearing children to you!?”

“Alright, alright,” Daichi eases, raising his hands in surrender. “It makes sense. But, what if Hinata doesn’t want a wife or children?”

“Yes, and I’m sure _all_ of the nobles and civilians would love hearing that. The last survivor of the Royal Family chooses to end his own bloodline because he _wants_ to!” Sugawara rattles sarcastically.

Daichi’s tone grows stern. “I understand you’re worried, but what goes on between Kageyama and Hinata is their business and you have to respect their decision.”

Sugawara’s face scrunches and he has about five nasty remarks already lined up and ready for lashing out. Instead, he turns on his heel and stomps out of the fort, grabbing a basket. He goes for a walk into the forest to gather berries for a pie, muttering to himself.

“How am I supposed to respect it if it's so obviously dangerous!?” He asks furiously, all alone in the trees with a basket half-full of blueberries. No answer comes, only the rustling of leaves above.

* * *

Growing up, Sugawara always held good relationships with the members of the chapel. He found the teachings to be admirable, and found security in his prayers. So, it was realistic for him to think about permanently devoting himself, because he had already spent numerous years doing so and enjoying it. There was a net of safety in the chapel’s walls, something he never got in his earlier years. Sugawara enjoyed the comfort. The reassurance of having a place to call home, and people who cared about him.

But then the Superior mentioned a perk. Well, he probably called it a ‘privileged opportunity’, but it was really just an added bonus to Sugawara. In exchange for devoting himself to the chapel for the rest of his life, he would be taught healing and light magic. As soon as the Superior spoke the words, Sugawara was officially hooked. He kept himself composed as he accepted, though his hands were nearly trembling in excitement.

He began learning healing magic first, being the easier of the two disciplines. It took him months to be able to learn to concentrate his magic and heal a thin cut, but the day he did it successfully he was thrilled. He stared at his hands as if he’d done something miraculous.

The introduction to light magic was much different. He had to attend one on one lessons with the Superior, listening to lectures about the importance of using light magic for the right purposes. The Superior told him only the pure of heart were able to practice light magic. Those untouched by evil or its wicked ways. A seed of doubt planted itself in Sugawara’s mind upon hearing this, because while he had done much good in his short life, he was certain he did not possess a pure heart.

The lessons were infrequent and boring. Sugawara found it tough to remain attached to the subject, constantly reminding himself it would all be worth it the day he could produce light magic all on his own.

* * *

Daichi is ignored for the rest of the day, and the attitude is not lost on the others. He receives questioning glances and Daichi shakes his head or shrugs at each one. He has long since learned there’s not much you can do about Sugawara’s temper when he’s frustrated like this. Akaashi and Iwaizumi cook dinner and Sugawara doesn’t show up upon the announcement, nor when Daichi knocks on his door and informs him of the meal waiting. He stops by his room afterwards holding the plate of food and trying the handle, to discover it is locked.

He knocks and receives no answer.

“Suga?”

Nothing.

“Ice-cold,” Kuroo murmurs from his doorway, head poked out.

Daichi gives him an unimpressed look. “Enjoying the show?” He asks, setting the plate in front of Suga's door.

“It never happens, you can’t blame me for being invested-”

Daichi closes his door behind him.

Sleeping in his own room that night is weird. He rarely ever does it, unless he or Sugawara is sick and most times, one of them ends up caving and sneaking into the other’s room, inevitably passing along whatever illness it was.

* * *

One day, a group of weary travellers came to the chapel looking for a place to rest. One in particular was sicker than the rest and the Superior declared he would need to be isolated in a separate room so he did not spread his illness to the others. He volunteered Sugawara as the one to stay by his side and tend to him, meaning he would also be isolated for days. The other members rotated dropping off food and water in front of the closed door, as well as fresh clothes and clean buckets.

It was an interesting experience, being stuck in his small room together. There was enough space for a bed, chest, a side table and some walking space. Sugawara was given a stool to sit on and slept on the ground in the nights. It was challenging at times, being stuck in the same room as someone for days. There were moments Sugawara didn’t want to even face his direction, and others he couldn’t take his eyes off the boy. It was a total of ten days of isolation, but because Sugawara was by the boy’s side for the entirety, he felt they had a deeper connection than newly acquainted people.

The boy was witty; he made Sugawara laugh easily, and blush just as much. His stories of travel held him captivated. He was a couple years older than himself, but it had seemed like he lived such a full, adventurous life compared to Sugawara, who’d barely known anything outside the walls of his old orphanage and the chapel. The boy was colossal; out-of-reach from him. He was a vessel of experience and knowledge Sugawara could only ever imagine to be.

He found himself becoming attached to the boy in a deep way. When he would go through terrible sweats and whimper through his pain, Sugawara would sit by his side, holding his hand and wiping his face with a wet cloth. When he vomited up his meals, Sugawara would wear a worried face and rub his back, soothing him through the heaving. It wasn’t a pretty job, but the small, rewarding moments like the day he finally held down his meals or slept completely through the night made it all worth it. They were a team, in it together.

“Anyone ever told you ya look like an angel?” The boy said to him, on one of the nights near the end of their isolation.

Sugawara chuckled. “Can’t say they have. Maybe it’s the lack of wings.”

“I dunno. If I squint and tilt my head a little,” he demonstrated, making a funny expression.

Sugawara laughed, shaking his head and wringing the cloth of excess water over the bucket.

“I’m telling you," the boy says. "The wings are there.”

“Are they nice?” Sugawara teased.

The boy slid his hand around Sugawara’s. He thought the boy looked beautiful with so much colour in his face, compared to his pale, sickly skin over the past days.

“Very.”

* * *

In the morning, Daichi passes by Sugawara’s room and tests the handle. It’s still locked, so he figures the healer to be sleeping. He wanders into the kitchen, lighting a fire and preparing tea. Lavender with a touch of honey; Sugawara’s favourite.

He carries the cup to the hallway and raps his knuckles on Sugawara’s door. He thinks he hears shuffling from the other side and the lock clicks. The door edges open a couple inches to reveal a narrowed, tired gaze. Silently, Daichi holds the tea up in offering, and watches Sugawara focus on the cup. He opens the door further, accepting the steaming cup.

“I’m going to get some morning training in,” Daichi says, beginning to step back.

“Daichi,” Sugawara calls to him quietly.

He turns around and Sugawara advances towards him, unsmiling. Daichi blinks as the healer stops in front of him. Sugawara reaches his free hand up to the side of his face and kisses Daichi gently.

“Thank you,” he murmurs.

A small grin fits its way onto Daichi’s face. “Of course.”

* * *

The day they were allowed to exit the room, Sugawara and the boy bolted outside, invigorated from the taste of freedom in their bodies. Sugawara raised his hands above his head as soon as he was outside, spinning around and laughing. The sun on his skin had never felt so _good_ before! Warm. Comforting. He took a deep breath.

The boy was sprinting off across the road, passed the large oak tree facing the chapel.

“Where are you going!?” Sugawara called to him.

“Dunno, my legs started doing this on their own!” He called over his shoulder.

Sugawara laughed, full of pure happiness. He broke off into a run behind him, intending on catching up. The tall grass wisped against his arms and legs with each stride. Eventually he did reach the boy and they were far out into the rolling meadows. Sugawara turned around in the direction of the chapel and couldn’t see the building over the sloping hills.

They play tag, which seemed like one of those games you felt too old to play, but the simplicity of the thrill of chase and be chased was very entertaining. They ran until their paces died to sluggish strides. Sugawara dropped onto the ground first, heaving deep breaths of air into his lungs in resignation to the game. He ogled up at the sky, blue and beautiful as always, but he especially so today. The boy’s head appeared overtop of him all of a sudden, blocking his view.

“In the sunlight like this, you get more angelic.”

“You say such embarrassing things with a straight face, it’s almost convincing,” Sugawara said, sitting up to hide his warming face.

“It’s all truth, I promise. After all that time in your room together, I'd say you know me better than people I’ve been friends with for years.”

Sugawara smiled. “I think you know me better than anyone at the chapel. I wish you didn’t have to go so soon…”

The boy stood up without adding anything else, offering his hand. Sugawara blinked at it, then up at him. “Didn’t you say you wanted to show me your garden?” He asked.

Sugawara's smile thawed into a somber upward curl of his lips. He slid his hand in the boy’s and rose up using him for balance. They returned to the chapel, behind the building where the garden was. Midway through pointing out herbs used for preventing infection in wounds, the boy came close and grabbed Sugawara’s hand. He was cut off by the boy’s lips pressing to his own. Without any sort of thought process influencing his actions, Sugawara reciprocated immediately and wrapped his arms around his shoulders.

* * *

Sugawara isn't keen on discussing Kageyama again. Daichi tries to bring the topic up a couple days later, only to receive an unimpressed frown and he takes it as a nonverbal way of declaring until further notice, it is a topic not to be touched. He has no problem for the time being, but Daichi is curious as to why Sugawara is struggling to adjust to the idea of Kageyama travelling back and forth from the castle. He has his own few opinions, but nothing is certain and Sugawara’s distaste for the topic leaves him on his own trying to figure it out.

Daichi approaches Akaashi one morning after he returns from target practice to ask him about the nobility. His oddly specific question earns a thoughtful stare, but no prying as to why he would ask such a thing.

“Typically, it is not normal for nobles to remain childless. Lineages are important to sustaining family structure.”

“But, what if the Lord or Lady couldn't bear children?”

Akaashi ponders a moment. “I did know a few families who adopted due to the inability to conceive. It breaks tradition, but it keeps the house alive, which is ultimately priority. My uncle is one of the few I knew of personally.”

“And…the people accept the adopted child as a member of nobility,” Daichi assumes.

“Prior to the adoption, there were talks of purging my uncle’s spouse from the family, due to her inability to produce a child. As I mentioned, continuation of family lineages is important. However, my uncle did not consider it a solution and they decided to adopt. Like any kind of change, it was met with resistance at first, but the majority of people came to accept it, likely because an heir was secured.”

Daichi nods, processing the information. This is good news, right? Sugawara will want to hear all of this and it should settle his nerves.

“So, there were still people who didn't support it?”

“Correct,” Akaashi answers. “It slipped my mind; a small religious group attempted to persecute the family following the adoption. Thankfully, they were few in number and did not cause any harm upon my uncle or his family. They were arrested and never posed another threat, so I have been told.”

Suddenly, Daichi excuses himself and thanks Akaashi.

* * *

Sugawara woke up late the next morning. He sprung out of bed hurriedly, wondering why nobody woke him up, seeing as he had chores to attend to. He hoped the travellers hadn’t set off already, but the boy did say they’d be setting out early. Still, he scrambled to dress himself and bolted out of his room. Upon entering the main room of the chapel, he spotted the Superior standing at the head of the altar, staring at him wearing an intimidating, passive gaze. Sugawara recognized the look instantly and he swallowed a dry lump when the man beckoned him forward. The other members stood behind the Superior and also regarded him with blank expressions on their faces. He didn't understand what was going on.

Silence filled the room, up until Sugawara stopped in front of the Superior.

“Nothing will save you from the offense you have committed,” the man said.

Sugawara was shocked. “Superior, I-”

“Do not _speak!_ ” The man roared, stepping forward and throwing Sugawara to the ground. “You think you could hide your unclean actions? Fooling around with that vermin,” he paused. The tone of his voice and the fury in his eyes paralyzed Sugawara. Fear wracked Sugawara’s heart, jumping tenfold upon the realization of what the Superior was referring to. How did he find out? They were by themselves-

“Do you confess to such foul behaviour?”

They’d always told him, honestly was the key to salvation.

“I…I do. Please Superior, forgive my actions.”

Turns out, it was a way to hold a weapon to your throat.

“Forgiveness is not an option. You are to leave this holy place, and if you ever set foot on this sacred ground again, I will personally purge the evil from your existence.”

The words took a couple seconds to set in and even then, it was difficult to comprehend. “What?”

“You are to leave immediately. I will not repeat myself.”

Breathing grew harder than normal, like the air he inhaled was doing nothing to fill his lungs. “May I…retrieve my belongings?” He managed to ask; his head bowed.

“Your belongings? They do not belong to you; they are property of the chapel.”

Each word he spoke drove a spike into Sugawara's chest. This wasn’t really happening. It was a terrible, terrible dream. A nightmare, he was sure to wake up from any second now.

“Please, just a pair of shoes and a flask of water,” Sugawara begged, trying to fight the tears.

“Why would I spare such valuable resources on a rodent?” The man sneered.

“Superior…” One of the men behind him murmured.

He remained placid. “Take the flask. The shoes stay.”

Sugawara nodded.

“Do my ears fail me?”

It hurt to speak the words. “Thank you, Superior,” he forced out quietly.

He rose, starting to his room. He checked over his shoulder, and for a flash, he could see the evil radiating off each and every one of them. Instead of eyes, their sockets were completely black. Jagged horns grew from their head and tongues lolled from their mouths, like panting dogs. The Superior was the worst, scowling in contempt. Like Sugawara was scum.

He was not the pure of heart. None of them could be.

***

He rushed towards his room to grab his flask, head low and movements stiff. Rounding the corner, Sugawara had to force himself to keep moving when all he wanted to do was fall to the ground and beg for mercy. He stopped a few paces passed the Superior’s door and backtracked to stand in front of it. He had a brief standoff with the door, debating if the impulsive scheme was good or not.

What was good anymore anyway?

Anger flooded him, temporarily covering the paralyzing shock. He checked his immediate surroundings, testing the handle. The door unlatched and Sugawara slipped inside. It was a simple room; not dissimilar to his own. A small bed, side table and chest. Sugawara moved with haste, opening the chest at the foot of the bed and shuffling through its contents to grab a familiar book. He stuffed it under his tunic, hoping nobody would notice the strange bulge in his clothing. He had to move quick before anyone could notice anything off. Sugawara gathered his flask, swiping it from the wooden table next to his bed and returning to the entrance of the chapel.

Each step closer invited a new question, wearing his false bravado away: Where was he going to go? He’d never left the chapel; the furthest he’d ever been was on the path behind the building, leading through a forest to a small river. Sugawara never had a reason to leave until now. What was he going to do once he found a place to stay? What kind of place was going to take him in like this, anyway?

Recalling one of the conversations with the boy while they were isolated, he said they’d been on their third day of travel from the nearest town. So, one direction was guaranteed to be at least three days without shelter. The other road, who knows. Does he pick uncertainty or a daunting journey? No water, or food for three days. Could he survive that long? Would he be able to find food on his own?

He rushed to the front doors as fast as possible, his head low. Nobody spoke, or glanced at him as he walked to the exit. Clenching the flask and the item he stole under his shirt, Sugawara wanted to stop and turn to everyone; the ones who were supposed to be his family, and care for him. He wanted to yell at them for not preaching the very lessons they taught about love and forgiveness. He wanted to ask why they would enact such a strict punishment over this. Is what he did so wrong? He couldn't wrap his head around it.

Ashamed to admit it to himself, Sugawara also wanted to cry. To beg forgiveness. Because the second he stepped outside of the chapel, that would be it. There would be no going back. The thought alone drained the blood from his hands and feet, leaving them numb. He couldn’t make it out on his own; he had no idea where he’s going to sleep at night. What if it rains?

He put on a strong facade and opened the doors. No looking back.

Nobody even said goodbye.

_Cowards._

A new bout of confidence bred of outrage entered Sugawara’s chest. His head raised high in front of him and immediately, his eyes were drawn to the large oak tree on the opposite side of the road. Sugawara always found it beautiful, since the day he was brought here. A wide, short trunk supporting countless branches full of leaves stemming from it, reaching up so high he’d have to crane his head up to see the top.

At that moment, beautiful could be the furthest word to accurately describe it. Sugawara’s stomach lurched at the sight in front of him, like someone was constricting his organs. Twisting his intestines into knots and pinching his heart tight.

He fled down the opposite direction the boy came from in a sprint.

* * *

Sugawara has been stewing on it. He wants to tell Kageyama to stay; that it would be safer for him this way. That it would put his mind at ease if he remained far away from the castle as possible. That nothing but trouble awaited him there.

When Kageyama leaves for his first session of training, he chokes up and can't say any of the things he practiced in his head. He goes to Daichi, after checking on his bread of course.

“I couldn’t say anything in the end. You were right. I can’t go around telling him what to do, but I can’t help worrying,” he sighs, dropping onto the edge of Daichi's bed.

Daichi sits next to him. “I know. You’re always so caring, thinking of everyone else. Keeping the ones you love safe, it’s always been important to you.”

Sugawara nods and watches Daichi grab his hands, threading their fingers. “These hands, they’re so full of healing and love,” he kisses Sugawara’s fingers. “They’ve saved countless lives.”

“They can’t save everyone though,” Sugawara says.

“Suga-”

“You’ve been telling me for years and yet, I’ve never fully accepted it. I know it’s not healthy. It’s-” he stops. “What if something happens to Tobio and I’m not there to heal him? What if one of those snotty nobles catches them together-”

He grits his teeth hard once the words come out.

“You’re thinking of what happened at the chapel.”

Sugawara bows his head. “He kissed me,” Sugawara whispers. “All he did was kiss me, Daichi. And they killed him. They hung that boy’s neck from the oak tree right in front of the chapel.”

“I’m sorry. I should’ve known.”

“I couldn’t do anything about it. Maybe if I was stronger, or knew magic I could’ve gotten some kind of revenge. But I was useless, standing there afraid and _weak._ I never wanted to feel so bad again. I wanted to be able to take care of myself and the ones I loved. But Tobio and Akaashi got hurt on the mission, then three people I love almost got executed-” he stops, turning his head down. Daichi holds him tight.

“I have to be able to do more,” Sugawara says.

* * *

He ran. It was all he could do, aside from choking out heaves and trying to stop the tears. Sometimes his vision got so blurry he wavered off the path, or tripped. He scraped his knees twice, ripping his trousers on the second instance. His feet were already sore, and probably cut in some places too. Every time his soles caught a sharp rock, he moaned out a weak cry. No matter how many hills he passed, land stretched as far as he could see. There were occasional trees scattered here and there, but nothing else. No buildings, or people.

He ran until his legs could do so no more. He ran until his knees gave and with it, the last of his energy. It took a lot of effort to crawl into the field next to the road, where at least the tall grass provided some sort of comfort. Clutching the light tome he stole from the chapel to his chest, Sugawara was able to sleep easier than he thought, and his dreams were blank. He woke up the next morning soaked head to toe in rain. It was still drizzling as he sat up and a flash of aching struck nearly every muscle in his body. He was sure a cold was coming on too, sniffling constantly.

Sugawara removed the tome from his tunic, and dawning horror took his features upon examining the book. “No, no, no!” He cried, cracking it open. The pages of ink were soggy and blurred, completely unreadable.

He cursed, shouting in frustration and threw the book as far as he could. Sugawara dug the heels of his hands into his eyes and breathed shaky, trying not to start sobbing again.

He couldn’t just sit there all day, crying in the rain. He needed to get moving and make as much ground as he could. Standing up felt like the most difficult thing he’d ever attempted in his life. His thighs, calves and feet all protested the movement, but eventually he was able to get a pace going. His feet got muddy from the road, and he knew he’d have to find a way to clean them at some point soon. Better yet, he needed a pair of boots.

“With what gold?” He whispered to himself. He sipped his water occasionally, finishing it by mid-afternoon. The rain let up, but the sun was still hidden behind clouds. Sugawara took many short breaks, even pausing to remove his clothes and ring them out of excess water. Everything in his body still hurt, but by the end of the day he was dry and good at pretending it wasn’t so bad. The hunger in his stomach was a dull twinge and the thirst in his mouth a dim hindrance.

He walked past sunset, not tired for some reason. Or maybe his body was going through the motions automatically, so used to walking he didn’t have to think about it. At some point, he did come to a stop on the path in the middle of a forest, but it wasn’t because he was tired, or ready to rest.

It was because he heard voices ahead. Coming closer, he saw the glow of a fire, veered to the left of the path. Three men sat around it, chatting loudly amongst themselves and oblivious to him staring. They were drinking and eating by the looks of it. Watching them bring the food to their mouths and chewing heightened his hunger.

Sugawara was about to call out to them, but he caught an axe propped on a tree and shut his mouth. He didn't think they were soldiers based off their clothing, but their gruffness was intimidating. Sugawara approached the group carefully, hiding behind a tree to observe them closer.

Two of them were sitting on the trunk of a fallen tree, one wearing a headband tied around his head, the other completely bald. The third was on the ground opposite to them and from his distance, Sugawara saw large scar on his face. They were awfully loud, yelling over each other and calling out insults. One of them rolled out his shoulder and said he injured it in their last fight. Whatever that meant.

Sugawara spotted a few bags, dropped around them. One was next to the man on the ground, another behind the log the other two sat on. He begun to wonder what other food they had in there. Asking didn’t seem like a good option…but what did that leave him with?

He could take it. Stealing went against everything he’d been raised to believe, but what was there to believe in now? Everything prior to yesterday felt like a past life. A part of him which existed no longer. He was so hungry too; his stomach wouldn’t accept passing up such an opportunity.

His body made the decision for him, settling on his hands and knees and crawling quietly towards the bag behind the log. Sugawara moved slow, for fear of one wrong move, one snap of a branch giving him away.

He reached the bag and shuffled through it, trying to get a view of anything useful. The men were merely feet from him, shifting topics to rattling about filthy things they’ve done to woman. Sugawara’s fingers sliced along something sharp in the bag, probably a knife, and he withdrew his hands quickly, hissing a sound.

The moment each pair of eyes turned to him, Sugawara realized he should have been patient and waited for them to sleep before snooping.

One of them grabbed him by the hair before he could try to back away, hauling him off the ground. The sharp pain caused him to cry out and he was dragged closer to the fire.

“What do we have here? A little rat foraging for scraps?” The one holding him called. The sound of his chilling voice and the glimpse of the large scar on his face up close was more than enough to send Sugawara’s heart into nervous thumps.

“Look at him, he’s filthy,” the bald man grunted from his seat.

The man with the scar threw him to the ground roughly. Sugawara tried to sit up and a heel dropped forcefully onto his stomach. He wheezed and the man laughed at his agony as if it was a joke. Sugawara was struck a second time, in his side. His rib cracked from the force.

“Trying to steal from us, you’ve got some guts you vermin,” the man continued, leering at Sugawara. He could smell the nauseating scent of alcohol on his breath.

“What should we do with the pest?” The man with the headband asked.

The scarred man removed a knife off his belt and tipped the end towards Sugawara. “There’s only one sure way to deal with vermin: Extermination.”

The word sent a catastrophic fear into Sugawara. He tried to scramble backwards, and a foot drove into his wrist. He heard a snap and cried out loudly, his vision going shaky.

“He’s annoying, shut him up already,” the man with the headband said disinterestedly.

 _I don’t want to die!_ Sugawara thought frantically. The man’s grip tightened on the handle. _No, I can’t! Not now, not after everything that’s happened. I have to survive, I have to survive!_

The man grinned, a sickening, entertained smile, toying the knife in his hand and muttering about all the ways he was going to cut up Sugawara's pale skin. Into pieces, into shreds, into-

_I HAVE TO SURVIVE!_

“I can heal your shoulder!” Sugawara shouted as loud as he could.

His words actually caused the man to pause and raise a brow.

“Your shoulder,” Sugawara repeated in hysterics. “You injured it fighting, right? I can treat it! I’m a healer!”

He was bluffing; he knew he wouldn’t have the skill or stamina to treat anything greater than a deep cut, but he just had to convince them he was capable. The scarred man didn’t appear to buy it at first either.

“I-I can demonstrate to prove it!” He said, exposing the bloody slice on his fingers. The man in front of him said nothing, lowering the knife at his side. Sugawara took the hint to continue and raised his left hand, the one the man stomped on. He bit his tongue to keep from crying out as he hovered it over the cut hand and begun channeling his magic. A glow emitted from his hands and the men on the logs squawked out in surprise.

He exposed his hand to the man when he was done. There was still blood on his fingers, but the skin was completely healed.

“You actually can heal,” the scarred man drawled. He sheathed the knife on his belt and knelt next to Sugawara. “Fix my arm, and I’ll consider letting you keep your limbs in tact.”

Sugawara nodded hastily, sparing a glance at the other two. They were still sitting on the log and staring in interest. Sugawara couldn’t look the scarred man in the eyes, asking him to remove his shirt so he could examine the area.

He figured he had a window of maybe a couple seconds. There was no doubt the men were stronger than him, but there was also no doubt they were drunk. He had to find a way to exploit this, and in a way that would give him an opportunity to flee. The idea of what he was about to do daunted him. It would go one of two ways: either how he pictured or terribly, horribly wrong. As the scarred man raised his arms to lift his shirt, Sugawara knew he couldn’t waste time hesitating. He reached for the man's knife using his uninjured hand, unsheathing the blade fast and holding it as tight as he could. The man let out a sound of surprise, but in his position kneeling on the ground with his arms over his head he was rendered vulnerable. Sugawara took the opportunity and plunged the knife deep into the man’s lower back.

The next few seconds were hard to remember in hindsight. He knew the man howled in pain. He saw the other two rising up to grab their weapons. He bolted for the scarred man’s bag, snatching it up and running into the forest. He only heard one yell coming after him, but he didn't bother turning around to check.

As soon as the light of the fire disappeared, Sugawara’s pace lagged into a hurried walk, a hand out in front of him to prevent bumping harshly into any trees. The man behind him was loud, yelling threats that grew faded. Sugawara didn’t stop for about another hour to be sure he was safe.

_I killed him. He's dead, because of me._

He stabbed him strategically, knowing the placement of the kidneys relatively well. Without immediate treatment, he would have been dead already. He did it to save himself, but did that make it okay? Weren't his hands supposed to be tools of healing?

He was too tired to think about it much, all of his adrenaline worn off. He slept peacefully against a tree through the night, and didn’t wake up to two hostile men in front of him, so it was something. It took him another half day to find a way out of the forest, having lost his path.

* * *

Sugawara chooses to join Akaashi on his visit to the castle for several reasons. The first, being the one he told Akaashi: to seek out some new herbs from an apothecary in the city. He’s got the gold to splurge and he intends to add to his collection.

The second, a personal reason; he wants to persuade Hinata into allowing him to learn light magic from one of the mages at the castle. He tells himself he’s going to ask, no, he’s going to _demand_ Hinata allow him this. The reasonable side of him has to wonder if he’s allowed demand anything of a King, but he still goes into the castle with confidence.

Oikawa walks into the tea room and all the confidence evaporates into thin air like it was never there in the first place. He doesn’t know the man well, but he does know making demands from a person like Oikawa would get him nowhere. Sweet words and cunning probably won’t work on him either. Maybe if Iwaizumi had joined them...

When Oikawa starts hassling Akaashi, Sugawara can’t be bothered to worry about his personal interests anyway. He came here to support Akaashi and ultimately, it’s what he intends to do.

* * *

By some miracle, he made it to a town. He wasn’t paid much attention, in fact flat out ignored by most who saw his filthy appearance. He begged an innkeeper for a room (offering to work as a way to pay for it) and was cursed at. He asked a merchant for a single strip of dried meat and was laughed at, then spit on. Ever so desperate, he approached a small stable and asked to sleep in the barn with the animals. He was still turned away.

Before he could start feeling sorry for himself, the sound of a scream caught his attention. Sugawara trailed towards it, spotting two girls walking on the main road through the town. A few other townsfolk observed them alongside him and some approached the girls, obviously knowing them. One was being supported by the other, keeping a steady hold on the injured one who limped on her right foot. Sugawara took in the large slice on her ankle, cascading blood onto her shoes and the ground. The injured girl looked younger than himself, and she was unsteady on her feet judging by her swaying steps.

Sugawara stepped out from the side of the street to approach. He was scrutinized with a wary glare from the uninjured girl, followed by a command to get lost. The hurt girl fell to her knees on her next step, unable to hold her weight and Sugawara came forward. He knelt in front of her, and asked her to sit so her legs were outstretched.

The uninjured girl yelled at him again, and it’s not like Sugawara really blamed her reaction. He’d spent days travelling barefoot, in tattered clothing. He was starving, and severely dehydrated. Two large bruises from the bandit's kicks were boldly imprinted on his body and his wrist was still in a lot of pain (he didn't think it was worth wasting the energy to try and heal). He barely survived his travel and it showed. What could someone in a condition as pitiful as himself do? Still, the injured girl did what Sugawara asked, shifting her weight onto her bottom. The sickle had slipped from her grip as she was cutting wheat, she told him.

It was a fairly deep slice, and Sugawara was probably just as exhausted as her, but he hovered a hand over the wound and began healing her, until the corners of his vision darkened and he passed out.

He woke up later in a house. It felt odd to be inside for a change of pace. And to have a blanket, and be in a bed. He tilted his head to the side, seeing a woman humming to herself as she stirred a pot over a small flame. Whatever she was making smelled delicious.

“You’re awake!” She exclaimed, catching him staring.

Sugawara said nothing.

“Boy, you sure gave me a scare. I was worried you were never going to wake up. You slept almost two entire days!”

She scooped some of the pot’s contents into a bowl. Sugawara’s stomach growled, the smell of the food stimulating his appetite.

“I can’t thank you enough for what you did for my girl, Kaori. We wouldn’t have been able to afford medicine, let alone a healer to treat her wound.”

Sugawara wanted to be grateful for the thanks. The fresh clothing, the temporary roof over his head. Maybe even proud of himself for doing a good deed. Instead, he shut his eyes, and accepted the food fed to him. He managed a few bites before the hunger pains morphed into fullness.

Sugawara departed the town as soon as he could, taking nearly a week to fully recover. The morning he left, Kaori’s mother grasped his hands and thanked him for probably the fifth time. She gave him a pouch of food and some coin. Not much, but he was grateful for anything.

“So young, what are you doing all on your own?” She had asked him.

“Looking for my family,” Sugawara answered.

“Oh, you got separated from them?”

“Yes,” he lied.

“I hope you find them one day.”

“Me too,” he said.

That time, it wasn’t a lie.

***

The kindness and compassion Sugawara once showed his patients had vanished as he got older. He wasn’t nice to the people he treated and he wasn’t rude either, but he was distant and cold. He never tried to get to know his patients, or comfort or reassure them. He never encouraged them when they needed to be brave, not seeing a point in it.

He travelled on his own, never staying in one place for longer than a month. He was able to acquire a horse after a few months of saving up gold from treating various people in the towns he visited. His healing abilities flourished and Sugawara visited practically every town and city in the west, building a reputation for himself. If the town had an orphanage, he always made sure to stop by and examine the children, free of charge. While the places he visited became familiar, he never considered any a 'home'. He never found his 'family' either.

People who met him often called him a wise soul. Some sought him out thinking he was capable of curing all and any ailments. Stories about his deeds were passed on amongst the west, feeding an unlikely narrative. He was no god, nor saint and Sugawara would never grow accustom to having idolizing eyes on him, especially at the times his power wasn’t enough to save someone. He wasn’t sure which was worse; the people who believed his powers were divine, or the ones who had to find out the hard way it wasn’t true. He held his limitations, as any other person did.

Burnout hit Sugawara hard in his late adolescence and after a tough death involving a mother and her stillborn child, Sugawara fled to the south to go into isolation. He couldn’t get used to not saving people and losing the mother and her child was a final breaking point. His failures outshone his accomplishments, making him view himself as a fraud. What good was a healer who couldn’t save those suffering?

He got by on mixing and selling various potions and elixirs to the towns and cities he travelled. Sugawara never told anyone about his magic, and stopped practicing for nearly a whole year.

However, one day, while staying in a small town, he was approached by a man. He insisted he knew of Sugawara’s abilities, claiming to have spent weeks tracking him down. He informed him his friend had been cursed, and he was their last shot at recovering him.

Going so long without being recognized, Sugawara was hesitant at first. He wasn’t sure the how this man found him, or how lacking his skills were these days.

“Since you went through all the trouble, I suppose I can have a look at him.”

* * *

The trip to find Bokuto and deliver the resources proves to be good for Sugawara. He finds solace in providing aid to the familiar town alongside the others, reflecting on all the travelling he used to do across the west.

* * *

He lowered his hands into lap, unable to make eye contact with the man sitting across from him. Laid on the floor of the rented room between them, an unconscious man. His black robe had been shed long ago, exposing numerous large bruises all across his body. Scars were strewn across his arms, some thin slices coming from fighting and others in some sort of…circular shape. He wasn’t sure what kind of weapon would leave puncture deep into the skin like that.

“How bad is it?”

“I’m surprised he’s still alive,” Sugawara admitted. “His heart is barely beating.”

The silence following his words suggested discomfort. Used to the heaviness of revealing bad news, he remained passive to allow the man to process.

“He’s a stubborn bastard,” the man called Iwaizumi finally said, staring at his unconscious friend solemnly.

Sugawara’s hands shuffled slowly, growing cold. “You said the symptoms started showing weeks ago. When did it get this bad?”

“Two days ago. He fell off his horse and I discovered the marks all over him.”

“Has he been eating?”

“Barely.”

“Drinking?”

Iwaizumi’s frown deepened. “Not since yesterday.”

Sugawara shook his head. “I’m afraid there’s not much I can do for him at this point.”

Again, a stretch of silence. Sugawara counted the seconds, wishing his hands would warm up.

“Why not?”

He wasn’t expecting the question and turned his gaze to meet Iwaizumi’s. He also wasn’t prepared for the resentment in his eyes.

“Beyond the obvious symptoms, like the bruising, the lack of sustenance and the fact that he’s been unconscious for days,” Sugawara started. It was strange of him to get annoyed at Iwaizumi’s reaction. Anger wasn’t an uncommon response to hearing terrible statements. “I don’t specialize in treating curses. It’s far too advanced for me.”

He could see the tenseness in Iwaizumi’s shoulders. “So you’re not going to try?”

“It would be a wasted effort. Whoever did this wanted him to suffer and I’m afraid they’ve succeeded,” Sugawara said. It was cold, but it was the truth. He rose to his feet, preparing to exit the inn. He didn’t want to stick around to witness the worst of it.

Iwaizumi began speaking, slow and clear.

“He’s suffered all right. His whole damn life has been full of suffering. Kuroo’s been through things you and I could only imagine and he’s finally been able to escape his suffering and began to heal. I can’t… I won’t let him die like this. He’s the last of my family and I’d do anything to keep him safe, even if it meant tracking down an esteemed healer who went into hiding. You think I'm going to let you say no? To not _try_ anything to save him? Aren't you supposed to be the best!?”

By the end, he was yelling in his frustration. Sugawara stood at the door, paused in front of it. His jaw was clenched, and he was trying not to shake. There were so many things he wanted to throw back in the man's face. He wanted to call him unrealistic; stupid, for putting such high expectations on nothing but stories, half of which were embellished for drama.

Instead, he quietly asked, “You’re related?” While still facing the door. They didn't look very similar.

“Huh?" The man was confused, clearly. "No, but he’s as much family as any of my blood relative were,” Iwaizumi stated confidently.

Sugawara understood at that moment, why he’d gotten worked up so easily. It was because he was staring at the very thing he’d searched for his whole life. Envy was clouding his mind and judgement.

He turned his head over his shoulder and Iwaizumi was glaring at him. “You’ll have to help me.”

The man blinked and his glare subdued. “What?”

Sugawara returned to Kuroo’s side. “I’ll try everything I can, but I know I won’t be able to heal him on my own. I can’t pinpoint the source of the curse as it is. That’s why I need you.”

“But I’m not a healer,” Iwaizumi stated doubtfully.

“I know. When I heal, it takes energy from my body, replenishing the recipient in the form of magic. I can also take energy from you, funnel it through me and into Kuroo.”

"Sounds complicated."

“It is, and it's dangerous for someone who doesn't practice healing magic.”

In fact, he’d only ever tried it once. It killed the mother and ultimately, did nothing to save the unborn infant.

“Will it work?”

“If we’ve got enough life in us.”

Not a total lie, but Sugawara was unable to speak blatantly. It was dishonest and he knew it, but strangely, he was confident it wouldn’t matter to Iwaizumi either way.

The man nodded. “We have to. Let’s do this.”

***

They worked for hours. Sugawara knew he and Iwaizumi should have rested here and there, but the determination in both of them proved to be a strong resolve. Neither wanted to stop, driven by a fierce conviction to save Kuroo. In the lengthy process, Sugawara got to learn about Iwaizumi’s and Kuroo’s lives. The two met in a mercenary group they recently broke ties from. Iwaizumi was adamant the leader of the group was the one who sent the assassin after them, because they didn’t part on good terms.

Sugawara was able to track the source of the curse, embedded beneath Kuroo’s sternum. It took hours alone to find it, and they worked all through the night into morning to purify his body. He honestly didn’t think they would be able to heal him. Both of them grew weary as each hour continued to pass and Kuroo's condition didn't change.

“Iwaizumi?”

It was spoken while the sun was rising, and so low neither noticed at first. When his name was repeated, they both turned to him with surprised expressions. Kuroo glanced at Iwaizumi first, then Sugawara, and back to Iwaizumi.

“Kuroo…” Iwaizumi murmured.

Kuroo stared at Iwaizumi’s palms, pressed to the back of Sugawara’s hands and hovering over his body. The glowing magic had faded from their joined hands, Sugawara’s concentration completely broken. He was astounded Kuroo has gained consciousness. He couldn’t believe it at first, stuck in a state of shock that he was alive.

“Who’s the lover boy?”

Iwaizumi released a sigh. “I’ve never been so happy to hear your taunting.”

***

Sugawara had to step outside shortly after Kuroo awoke, saying he wanted some fresh air. He barely made it to the side of the building before he collapsed to his knees and cried for the first time in what felt like years.

He promised himself he’d never give up on anyone, including himself, ever again.

* * *

They return from the town in the west and Kuroo comes to his to tell him about Kenma’s letters and the children. Sugawara listens attentively as he mixes a potion, keeping a steady face. Kuroo is nervous, constantly rubbing the back of his neck or breaking eye contact throughout his recollection of the events. He reveals to Sugawara he wants to help decide the fate of the Institute, all things considered.

“Kenma is smart, making the point about doing it for the kids,” Sugawara murmurs, bottling the final concoction.

“Smart? It was a total cheap shot.”

“But it worked, I bet.”

Kuroo huffs, turning his nose up. “Fine, maybe it did. If it were me, I could have used a good support transitioning into regular life. Now they’re in the castle and they probably have no clue what the fuck is going on and-”

Sugawara has a minor idea in his head as Kuroo continues to ramble: this could be an in for him to learn light magic. Immediately, he criticizes himself for trying and impose his wants. His desire to learn light magic has nothing to do with Kuroo’s situation and it would be selfish to use it as a way of getting what he wants.

* * *

“Iwaizumi, stop professing your love to the guy, he’s not interested!”

Sugawara suppressed an amused smile at Iwaizumi’s narrowed gaze towards Kuroo. He’s returned from the stable with their horses. The two of them were set to depart town shortly.

“I’m sorry about him, he’s an ass,” Iwaizumi murmured to Sugawara.

He shrugged. “But you still care for him all the same.”

Iwaizumi blinked, maybe a bit surprised by the statement. “Yea, but don’t tell him that.”

Sugawara laughed quietly. It was odd; he was beginning to feel blue.

“What will you do now?” Iwaizumi asked.

“Ah, I’ll stay here a little longer and travel to another town. I want to go back to practicing.”

“Anywhere in particular?”

Sugawara shook his head.

“Well, if you’re looking for work you could always join us. We caught word of a merc group not far from here. They’re strong, and I bet they could use someone of your talent. Their leader apparently has a good head on his shoulders. Strict, too.”

“Ugh, I heard he drills the members like they’re soldiers,” Kuroo chimed in.

“You could use it. You’re too lazy,” Iwaizumi called over his shoulder.

“Am not!” Kuroo protested loudly. “Who needs combat skills when I have magic?!”

Sugawara turned towards Kuroo. “You’re a mage?” He asked in disbelief. In all their conversing, Iwaizumi hadn’t mentioned it.

He pointed at Sugawara, confidence in his tone. “A strong one!”

Iwaizumi walked over to take one of the horses from Kuroo. “You weren't so strong after getting cursed, were you?”

“Eh?!” Kuroo yelled. “I won the fight in the end if you remember correctly!”

“You wouldn’t have truly won without Sugawara’s help.”

Kuroo shut up at that, raising himself onto his horse and glowering.

Iwaizumi did the same, nodding at Sugawara. “What do you say?”

Sugawara didn’t need a lot of time to consider. A lot had happened in the past three days and he felt like a new person in some ways. Rejuvenated. Ready to move. To start healing, like Iwaizumi said.

He decided he’d like a change of pace for once. These guys didn’t seem half-bad either.

* * *

Sugawara finally tells Daichi he wants to learn light magic while they’re bringing in laundry from the line. 

Naturally, he’s supportive, echoing Sugawara's previous thoughts. “I’m sure Kuroo could put in a good word for you at the castle and find you a teacher. You’ve got the gold to afford lessons.”

It sounds so easy, said aloud. Yet, Sugawara is hesitant. “I know! It’s just- won’t it be rude to make this about me?” He asks.

Daichi tosses a pair of trousers into the basket on the ground. “What do you mean?”

Sugawara spreads a hand out and stares down at it. “The reason he’s going is for the Institute and the kids. Not me.”

“This is Kuroo we’re talking about. He’ll agree if you ask him.”

* * *

They met the leader of the mercenary group after travelling together for weeks. The man called Kita was indeed strict, but Sugawara liked him within minutes of meeting. He wasn’t expecting such manners from a man of his profession and was pleasantly surprised. Kita agreed to employ the three of them for a two year contract upon completing a screening of their abilities.

They were sent on missions across the south, working for clients ranging from average civilians to Lords and Ladies. A couple months into working, Sugawara met a boy in a town they were dispatched to. He was sleeping behind a stable, covered in mud. He was so still, Sugawara worried he was dead at first, rushing to his side. He ended up startling the boy awake and he bit Sugawara so hard he bled. He tried not to scream a string of colourful words, instead biting hard on his lip and muffling a whimper while stumbling backwards. The boy did the same, shuffling away and curling tightly into a ball.

He must have been about the same age Sugawara was when he was outcast. Maybe that was why he held his hands up in surrender, saying he wasn't going to hurt him. He reached his uninjured hand into his bag and pulled out a small pouch. The boy was glaring at him, unmoving as Sugawara took a single step forward.

"For you," he said, stopping with a large gap in front of them and setting the pouch on the ground. 

The boy said nothing, peeking between the pouch and Sugawara. The healer took slow steps backwards and waited. Reluctantly, the boy crawled forward and snatched the bag before running off. Sugawara watched him go with a sad smile, healing his hand. He went into town to buy more food for himself, then returned to the inn. He noticed someone was tailing him, but didn't turn around to alert them. Arriving to the inn, Sugawara finally peered over his shoulder and there the boy was, prickling up at being spotted and making a break for it.

"I have more food if you're still hungry!" Sugawara called to him.

The boy nearly tripped over himself coming to a stop and turning around. Sugawara nodded in encouragement and the two sat next to each other outside of the inn, eating bread and dried meat. The boy didn't say a word the entire time, only responding to yes or no questions with shakes of his head.

The boy was cold towards him, like how Sugawara used to behave. He managed to sneak him into the inn they were staying at, paying for a bath and giving him his room for the night (he stole Kuroo's bed, since the guy was always up late anyway).

They went to leave town the next day and the boy shadowed them to the outskirts, completely unnoticed. He spoke up from behind them on the path, finally calling to Sugawara.

He looked over his shoulder at the boy, whose name he didn't know and teeth marks were still imprinted in his skin, and he saw himself. Scared. Cold. Alone. He knew he couldn’t leave him there on his own. Kuroo and Iwaizumi understood this too.

He dropped down from his horse and stood in front of the boy. "What's your name?"

The boy blinked his wide, dark eyes up at him. "Tobio."

***

Kita wasn’t thrilled about the news of Kageyama being brought in. He forbade him for going on missions, which Sugawara didn’t have a problem with, and allowed him to stay at the mercenary fort so long as he completed chores. Kageyama never allowed anybody but Sugawara to call him Tobio; a notion Kuroo didn't take very seriously, until he ended up with an elbow to his gut that made Iwaizumi laugh so hard he choked.

Kageyama always got mad when Sugawara had to leave for missions, and ignored him in the days leading up to his departure. But he always eagerly awaited his return, and Sugawara was always grateful to receive his stiff hugs. It was a reminder, that there were people who cared for him the way he'd always wanted.

* * *

Before Kuroo leaves, Sugawara approaches him and asks if he’d mention the possibility of finding a light mage willing to teach him. Kuroo agrees with no protest.

Turns out it really was that easy.

His friend returns bearing good news and Sugawara shrieks so loudly Iwaizumi comes running in his medicine room holding a knife.

* * *

After a couple of years working for Kita, Iwaizumi decided he wanted to leave the group. It was not a decision made of anger or bitterness, more like he wanted the freedom and pay of independent work and with his contract ending, he was able to do it. Naturally, Kuroo followed him, which meant Sugawara did too, and also Kageyama. Kita respected their decision to leave the company, thanking them for their work and promising a roof to work and sleep under if ever needed. The night before they left, Iwaizumi confessed to Sugawara he wanted to be a leader like Kita one day.

* * *

As time passes, Sugawara gradually becomes comfortable with Kageyama's trips to the castle, especially since he joins him once a month while going to his lessons with Kenma. Sometimes Daichi joins him too. From what he can observe between Kageyama and Hinata, the two appear to have their act together, despite the constant bickering. It's another reassurance.

It takes him a very long time to produce the barest of spells and the day a glowing ball of magic materializes over his hand, he is elated. He cries out in joy, breaking his concentration and mildly burning his hand. Light magic is so unlike healing magic, he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to grasp the concept. This was a huge moment for him.

* * *

One mission in particular had the group travelling out east. They were escorting a wealthy merchant to a town off the coast. He was planning on investing into several ships to transport his goods to a larger region. The man was not shy to bragging about his accomplishments, nor the future ones to come once he secured a deal. None of the mercenaries really enjoyed his company, but the pay was significant. Kuroo especially found him annoying.

The morning they arrived to town, there was so much fog from the ocean they couldn’t spot it at first. The only reason they’d realized they arrived was because of bells ringing in the distance. Finally, they were deep enough into the town to encounter a civilian and find out that there were pirates attempting a raid on the shores. Some of the ships had been set aflame, and men were fighting on the beach to protect the town from the intruders.

“Oh, I hope this won’t affect your profits,” Kuroo said to the merchant, faking a sympathetic face. Iwaizumi gave him a disapproving glower and Sugawara nudged him.

“We’re going to help them," Iwaizumi declared.

The merchant began to protest, claiming he didn’t pay them to abandon him while the town was in shambles, but Iwaizumi insisted they weren’t all going to leave. He entrusted Sugawara and Kageyama to escorting the merchant somewhere safe until the fighting was over.

“You’re going to leave me with a healer and a child!? They can’t protect me-” the merchant started up again.

“I promise you; Sugawara is capable. And Kageyama,” Iwaizumi paused, smirking a bit at the teen’s scowl. “Well, I think his face says it all. He’s not one to be taken lightly.”

* * *

He practices his new spells outside of the fort at night in front of Daichi. He’s astounded by each one he produces, not knowing they’re just the basics.

“You look angelic like this, producing beautiful magic from your fingertips.”

Sugawara smiles and laughs, though his eyes water a bit at the sentiment.

* * *

They were brought into a safe house by a local, sitting inside of the single roomed home full of others trying to escape the turmoil. Hours passed until another local came by and informed them the pirates had been driven off. Sugawara excused himself immediately, knowing there were sure to be people on the shore suffering injuries. He was also antsy to go find Iwaizumi and Kuroo to make sure they were alright.

He left Kageyama with the merchant. The man did no more than raise his eyebrows before Kageyama was scowling and crossing his arms over his chest, as if to dare him to protest. Sugawara held in a laugh and promised he'd return as soon as he could.

It was still very foggy out as he set off towards the shore, running through the streets. He nearly crashed into Kuroo and an unknown man drawing closer to the scene of the battle, catching glimpses of smoke in the air. Kuroo appeared fine, but the man he had an arm around was limping and had a large gash in his bicep, dripping blood all the way down his arm. He didn’t acknowledge the man in any way as he stepped close and hovered a hand over the wound to begin healing it.

“Where’s Iwaizumi?” Sugawara asked Kuroo.

“Back on the beach, gathering up others who were injured.”

Sugawara nodded. “Was he hurt?”

“A couple scratches.”

He hummed. “How many dead?”

“More pirates than townspeople.”

Sugawara grimaced. Was it supposed to be a positive comment? He lowered his hand from the man’s arm. It wasn't fully healed, but enough that he wouldn't pass out from blood loss. He instructed Kuroo to the house Kageyama and the others were at, and set off to the beach again.

He ran a couple paces forward, then paused and turned back to them. “Oh, and wrap his wound! There’s bandages in my bag at the house!”

He found Iwaizumi on the shore relatively easy. He had much more than, ‘a couple scratches’ and Sugawara reminded himself to slap Kuroo up the head for downplaying the severity of his wounds. He also slapped Iwaizumi up the head for attempting to carry two unconscious men when he was leaving a trail of his own blood in his path. He at least cut off pieces of his clothing to tie off the wounds, so there was an attempt made.

He returned to the house close to sundown. Before he stepped inside, a man recognized him and thanked him for his help.

Sugawara smiled politely at him through his exhaustion. He was handsome; muscular, with tanned skin and short dark hair. His eyes were welcoming.

“I’m glad to be of-” he cut himself off, his gaze falling to the poorly wrapped bandage on his bicep. The man’s clothes were familiar and it took him a few seconds to put it together. “Seriously, Kuroo? He can’t wrap a wound to save his life. It’s slipping off!” He exclaimed, reaching for the loose end piece sticking out from the wrap to unravel it. “What an ass.”

“Actually,” the man said, glancing at Sugawara’s hands, removing the bandage carefully. “I wrapped it.”

Sugawara’s hands halted in place, and he surveyed the man in shock. “It- it wasn’t that bad,” he amended timidly.

The guy laughed. “I haven’t had much practice. You can show me how to do it properly I hope?”

His face warming in embarrassment, Sugawara grinned sheepishly. He was thankful the man was a good sport and as an apology, he healed the wound fully. He was a bit dizzy afterwards and hid it well. The man introduced himself as Daichi, and told him the others were inside the house, doing fine. Sugawara thanked him, returning the gesture and excusing himself inside to rest.

* * *

He allows the small spiral of light magic to float upwards between them. Both him and Daichi watch it ascend to the sky, growing dimmer and dimmer the higher it goes.

“Before I met you, or any of the others, I used to be so sad and lonely, but also apathetic. All I’d ever wanted was a family and from day one, I never got it. I always found it so unfair, how so many other people got one and I didn’t. I finally did get one, or so I thought until they casted me out and broke my heart. For a while, I wasn’t sure if I’d ever smile again. Days went, in and out and they blurred together. They were all the same, and it was a chore. Living that is. It felt like it was something I was doing only because I had a functioning body.”

* * *

They stayed in town a few extra days so Sugawara could perform check ups on the injured men. He saw Daichi in passing over the few days and every time it happened, they would fall into long conversations. Sugawara found him earnest, and naturally charming. His arm and foot had fully healed, a quick recovery thankfully.

The night before they were set to leave, the townspeople argued they deserved a proper reward for aiding them. It translated into a large dinner gathering on the shore. They ate to their hearts content and drank well into the sunset. Some men lit a large fire, and others brought out big torches and stuck them in the sand. A few people brought instruments and played music, leading to some dancing around merrily. It was a wonderful event to be apart of and not because they were celebrating their deeds. No, Sugawara found it endearing because it was like the whole town was coming together as a big family.

Daichi and him spoke occasionally throughout the party and Kuroo happened to observe a pattern in their behaviour. As soon as Daichi was called away by a friend, Kuroo swung up to Sugawara's side and mildly harassed him. He denied the accusation of anything between them, but that meant little to Kuroo, who was grinning his predatory smirk. He made some comment about Daichi practically swaying at his feet and Sugawara was caught off guard. He thought Kuroo was going to make jabs at the way _he_ was acting, and it’s why he asked:

“You think he likes me?”

And Kuroo let out a big, loud ugly laugh that drew a few stares. "It's a good thing you have a pretty face."

* * *

"But then I started meeting people who I could trust and help me rebuild my confidence in myself. I met two young idiots searching for work, a starving boy with no family, a fisherman who left his whole life for me and a nobleman trying to find his purpose."

"You say that like I had some big fortune left behind," he laughs.

"No, but for a long time, I couldn’t get why you’d voluntarily leave your family. Especially if it wasn’t done out of bad blood."

* * *

The party was still in full swing when Daichi approached Sugawara and offered to take him on a walk along the shore. He agreed, praying Kuroo wasn’t watching them somewhere across the beach with a triumphant grin on his face. Sugawara grew slightly antsy as the music and voices grew quiter the further out they walked.

“Any chance you’ll swing by the town in the near future?” Daichi asked, bringing Sugawara from his internal cursing at Kuroo for putting ideas in his head.

“Probably not. Work has us all over the map these days,” Sugawara explained. He wished he could say yes, but it wouldn’t be right to make false promises.

“I figured you’d say that…Well, uh, thank you for everything you’ve done. Not just for me, but everyone in the town you helped.”

Sugawara focused on his feet as he walked. “It’s what I do, there’s no need to thank me.”

“You and your friends didn’t have to give a lick about us. We hardly get any guards sent out this far to defend us, let alone a group of skilled fighters and a healer volunteering to defend the town.”

He waved a lazy hand at Daichi. “You’re talking us up. It really wasn’t a big deal.”

He caught Daichi shaking his head in his peripheral. “Your magical hands saved people. That’s a big deal.”

Sugawara gazed towards the sea. “I guess when you get used to it, the allure wears off.”

Daichi stepped in front of him to halt their pace. “Did I say something wrong?”

He was perceptive, this Daichi. “No…not at all. It’s…” And boy, was Sugawara bad at lying once he was caught. He'd never been good at it to begin with.

“You don’t have to say it, I won’t pry,” he eased, turning to keep walking. Sugawara started talking, unabashed.

“People tend to think of me or my magic, as sacred. Supernatural even. They sometimes see me that way too and I could never wrap my head around it. I still can’t. I’m no saviour, or higher being. I’ve done bad things too. I mean, sure I’ve saved many people, but there are also many I’ve lost.”

Daichi had turned to listen attentively. “You can’t save everyone, I suppose,” he mused. “But I have a hunch you always try everything in your power to.”

“Of course,” Sugawara frowned. "I can’t turn my back on someone suffering."

“Maybe you’re not only admired for the magic in your hands,” Daichi offered, stepping closer and tapping his chest lightly. “But the magic in your heart too.”

It was a melodramatic thing to say, but something about it hit Sugawara hard and before he knew it, tears blurred his vision.

He tried to cover his face and Daichi again worried he said something wrong, apologizing profusely.

* * *

“I’ve been thinking about the past a lot, lately. How when you experience something, it can feel completely different compared to when you reflect on it years later. I remember thinking you were crazy.”

“I thought I was crazy too, but it felt right.”

“Yea. Now I look back on it, and I couldn’t be happier you made that choice.”

* * *

Sugawara stepped outside the inn the next morning to go buy some fresh food before they departed. He was at the end of the street and heard someone yelling his name. Glancing over his shoulder, he was surprised to catch Daichi running towards him. He stopped in front of Sugawara, panted and flustered.

“Is everything okay?” Sugawara asked, immediately doing a quick scan of his body. He didn’t seem hurt, but maybe-

“How’s another addition to your group?” Daichi asked.

Sugawara’s gaze snapped up to meet his. “Huh?”

Daichi was still somewhat out of breath as he spoke. “Iwaizumi mentioned you guys could always use another good fighter. Well, I’m not half bad with an axe,” he assured. “You can ask him and Kuroo, they saw me fight.”

He was still trying to process his question. “You want to…join us?” He repeated.

“That’s what I’m getting at,” Daichi said sheepishly with a shrug.

He probably looked dumbfounded. “I don’t…What about your family?”

“They already know, and they’re not terribly thrilled. But they also know I wouldn’t decide this if I wasn’t serious.”

“Okay…um,” Sugawara tried, having nothing of use to offer. “Well, I don’t mean to sound rude, but why?”

Daichi actually smiled in his uncertainty. “I know it’s insane, but I… it would be like I’m letting something big get away from me if I stay."

It was then that Sugawara pieced it together. He thought Kuroo was probably back in his room at the inn giggling to himself. Ugh, what a jerk.

He returned the smile Daichi’s way, shyly. “I think I get it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suga was one of my favourites right off the bat when I started the show. I had to give him lots of attention in this one 🥺


End file.
